Once Bitten
by soyamiso
Summary: Bulma/Vegeta farce about their budding relationship.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Toriyama owns all DB stuff. I just borrowed the characters.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Vegeta emerged from the gravity room after four continuous days of training.  
  
"About time you got out of there. I suppose that you want to eat now. How can you go without food for four days," inquired his blue-haired housemate.  
  
"I eat."  
  
"Really? What could satisfy a Saiyan's appetite?"  
  
"This planet has an abundance of natural resources. The wild game provides sufficient sustenance for me."  
  
Bulma recalled a young Goku telling her that he ate mostly lizards and frogs -- and enjoyed them. She shuddered, remembering the wolf she saw him roast. "You've been eating lizards and wolves?" she half-joked.  
  
Vegeta nodded once. "Mostly the reptiles."  
  
"What? We have perfectly good food here and you prefer lizards? How many lizards do you have to eat to fill that Saiyan stomach of yours?"  
  
"One is sufficient."  
  
She gave him a dubious look. "Just how big are these animals?"  
  
"Large enough. Strangely, some of them have absurdly tiny forelegs. However, I prefer the taste of the long-necked ones. The vegetation they consume enhances the taste of their flesh."  
  
Bulma briefly wondered how often he read the dictionary. She let his words sink in before her genius mind sparked. "You've been eating dinosaurs!?"  
  
"I believe that is what you humans call them."  
  
"But, you're a prince. You hunt and cook for yourself?"  
  
"I am a warrior. I rely only on myself."  
  
"Then what about that 'drying cloth' business? You sure seemed to want a servant then."  
  
"I did. But you proved woefully inadequate."  
  
Bulma let the remark slide. After all, he had not bothered to demand her services since that day. "Hey, Mister, you will no longer be eating like that. We may not be on great terms, but I don't want people thinking that I'm a bad hostess, even to you. From now on, you'll be having your meals with me and my family."  
  
"I have dined with you before. The portions were less than meager. I would starve and become malnourished. I have no intention of you hindering my progress."  
  
Bulma waved a hand in the air nonchalantly. "Not another thought. I'll consider it a challenge to appease your appetite. If you don't agree, I'll interrupt your training at every chance. And you know that I can do it, too. By the way, what's it like to eat a dinosaur?"  
  
Vegeta shrugged and turned toward the house. "Smells like fish. Tastes like chicken."  
  
Bulma barely began her inspection of the gravity room when she heard a scream. A panicked male voice could be heard crying, "I'm trying, I'm trying, but they're not meant to be worn that way."  
  
Instinctively knowing that the Saiyan was somehow involved, she rushed into the kitchen to investigate the commotion. An obese man in dirty T-shirt and jeans was unsuccessfully trying to pull his pants up past his enormous beer gut. One angry Saiyan prince was firing ki blasts at his feet.  
  
"Vegeta! What's going on here? Leave the plumber alone. He's here to fix the water pipes."  
  
The Saiyan sneered and let the glow on his finger dissipate. "His appearance disgusts me. He insults me with his very presence."  
  
"Mister, like I said, it's in union rules. Section one, article twelve: All plumbers will attire themselves accordingly to be easily recognized. Pants should be worn low on the hips such that when one bends over, a minimum of one inch, but not to exceed three inches, of ass crack shall be exposed," the plumber recited.  
  
Bulma sighed. "Vegeta, leave the guy alone. He came to fix our water pipes. The sooner he gets to work, the sooner he'll be out of here. You can't hurt people just because they're unattractive -- no offense," she remarked to the plumber.  
  
"None taken," the plumber replied.  
  
"Fine. But make it quick and repair them correctly the first time. I do not desire to see your hideous hide again."  
  
The plumber gulped and for the first time in his paid-by-the-hour career, he rushed to complete his job.  
  
########  
  
After an intense training session, Vegeta headed toward the kitchen to quench his thirst. Before Bulma's 'invitation' to dine with the Briefs, he had rarely entered the house during waking hours for two reasons: Bulma and her mother. One was too loud and the other too touchy.  
  
He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. No milk, no sodas, and he was not in the mood for water. He spied a tall, dark bottle lying on its side at the bottom of the 'fridge. Pulling it out, he read the label -- Cabernet Sauvignon -- and popped the cork. Sniff. "Hmm, smells like grape juice but not quite. Looks like the liquid Frieza used to imbibe." He also remembered seeing the older Briefs woman drinking something like this. The unabashed Saiyan took a swig directly from the bottle. He noted that the flavor was acceptable, but the drink did leave a strange sensation on his tongue and throat.  
  
Walking out toward the living room, still drinking from the bottle, he noticed reason number one sitting on the couch watching TV.  
  
Sniff. "What's that smell?" His housemate turned around. "Man, Vegeta, you need a shower. It's about time you got out of that machine. Hey! What are you drinking? We were saving that for dinner tonight."  
  
Bulma launched herself over the back of the couch toward the warrior. "Give me that. You better not have backwashed into it!" She paused in mid- reach. "Uh, Vegeta, have you been doing pushups with your face?"  
  
Had she just insulted him? The Saiyan growled. "What are you thaying, Womanth? Huhth?! Whath iths habbenig thew by bouthf?"  
  
Bulma wiped his spittle from her face. "Just turn around and look in the mirror."  
  
"Aaabthth!" He swooned and fell to his knees. For a moment, he doubted that the reflection bouncing back at him was real: purple lips swollen to an immense size; a thick tongue trying to push its way through them; his face and neck were red as beets.  
  
"Vegeta, put that bottle down. I think that you're having a reaction to that wine. Now, don't panic, but your throat might..."  
  
Vegeta clutched his neck and started wheezing.  
  
"...become constricted." She forced herself to stay calm. "Okay. Vegeta, stay here. I'll be right back. Remember, you fighters can hold your breath for awhile, so this shouldn't be a big deal." But her voice was less than convincing.  
  
He focused on the grotesque creature staring back at him through the mirror. "I look like a spawn sprung from the loins of Dodoria! The indignities of it all! To be downed by a drink, and looking so fugly... " His thoughts trailed as he became increasingly light-headed from the severe hypotension caused by the dilatation of his peripheral blood vessels. Conversely, his lungs seemed to be on fire as the constricted bronchioles restricted further air intake.  
  
Bulma hurried to the kitchen medicine cabinet. "Epi-Pen! Epi-Pen! Hope it works on a Saiyan." By the time she returned to the living room, Vegeta was on the floor, no longer red, but turning a shade of purple completely off any known color spectrum. Quickly breaking the glass vial of the Epi- Pen, she jammed it against his left thigh.  
  
Vegeta, barely coherent on the floor, could only concentrate on getting air into his lungs. He felt his consciousness gradually slipping. A sudden sharp pain lanced through his leg and the room became brighter. "GASP!" Air, wonderful, tasty air rushed into his mouth, down his throat to his waiting lungs. He sat up and heaved heavy breaths.  
  
"You O.K.?" Before he could nod, she grabbed his left arm and plunged a syringe into it.  
  
"What are you doing to me?" he roared and jerked his arm from her grasp.  
  
"Wow, epinephrine works on Saiyans, too. Well, for your info, you were having an anaphylactic reaction to that wine. I just saved your life, Buster! And that other shot was an antihistamine. For future reference, stay away from alcohol, more specifically, ethanol."  
  
His thoughts were conflicted. Why would she save his life? They barely tolerated each other. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"Well, you're apparently allergic to the stuff. And the next reaction will be quicker -- "  
  
"No. I mean, why did you save me?" he growled quietly.  
  
"I don't know. I guess it's in my nature. I'd save a rabid dog if I could."  
  
"Hmmpf." Vegeta stood and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait a minute. You owe me."  
  
"I owe you nothing. I am training to destroy those androids to save your world. Therefore, we are even."  
  
"Nuh uh. Don't give me that. You're training to prove your power and boost that already humongous ego of yours. And you couldn't care less about this world. You know you owe me, and I intend to collect." She thought for a few moments before deciding on her payment. She snapped her fingers. "There's a moon festival tomorrow near the coliseum. Since I don't want to go alone, you'll accompany me."  
  
"Was not the moon destroyed?"  
  
"Yeah, but you know people. Any occasion to throw a party."  
  
"Then go bully that weakling boyfriend of yours to attend with you. He seems to enjoy such forays. I have no time for trivial matters. I need to continue with my training and become a Super Saiyan."  
  
"You shouldn't be exerting yourself. Your lips are still swollen, and your rash will last for about a week. Training will only make the condition worse. Then you'd be a Super Stupid Saiyan." She laughed like a horse.  
  
Vegeta blinked. He found her humor severely lacking.  
  
"You know I'm right," she continued.  
  
"I reiterate: Get that Yamcha nut to go with you."  
  
"Yamcha's off training in the desert. Besides, he's not my boyfriend anymore, not like that's any of your business."  
  
She and Yamcha had parted amicably weeks ago. Both realized that their relationship had changed. After so many years together, they began to settle into a comfortable routine -- much like a deep friendship. The two were realistic enough to admit that if they were meant to be closer, then it would have happened years ago. So after the official break-up, Yamcha returned to the desert with Puar for training.  
  
Vegeta thought about his situation. Perhaps he should threaten her with bodily harm. No, he had to admit that she did just save his life. Dammit. "All right. But after tomorrow, you will leave me be."  
  
"Deal. Be ready by 10:00 a.m. And act civil. I don't want to call attention to us and end up at the police station or anything."  
  
%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	2. It Ain't about the Moon

Disclaimer: same as Chap one.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
They spent the day walking about the Moonie Carnival doing nothing in particular. Bulma was dressed in one of her many shorts and tank top combo with her mass of curls controlled in a ponytail. Vegeta wore a dark blue pocket T-shirt with khaki pants. Being a Saiyan, he had recovered from the allergic reaction to the wine much faster than Bulma had predicted. No more rash, no more swollen lips.  
  
Most of the outing was uneventful. Bulma played a few games but never won a prize. Vegeta was being Vegeta -- a walking sociopath.  
  
"Why do they always have to put the restroom in the farthest, darkest part of the carnival area," she complained. A group of rough-looking men leered at her as she passed. She tried to ignore them and walked briskly to meet back with Vegeta.  
  
"Hey, pretty lady. Wanna have some fun?" said one in the group.  
  
She started running. They took chase.  
  
"VEGETA! Heeeellllppp meeeee!"  
  
The Saiyan was at the peanut vendor's cart when he heard her panicked voice. Turning around, he saw his housemate being chased by four men.  
  
She ran and cowered behind him. "You guys better leave me alone or he'll hurt you."  
  
"Leave me out of this, Woman. Surely, you must have learned something in all your time with the other loser warriors. Deal with them yourself. I have no time to waste with the imbeciles."  
  
"Hey! I think that shrimp with the funny haircut just insulted us."  
  
"Sir," interrupted the oblivious vendor. "Would you like plain or salted?"  
  
"Salted and a large soda," Vegeta ordered.  
  
"What's your little boyfriend gonna do, lady? There's four of us and one of him," jibed one of the thugs.  
  
"Maybe he'll come over and poke us with his hair," laughed another.  
  
"Hey, little man, why don't you just step aside, give us your girlfriend and peanuts, and we won't hurt you -- not too bad anyway."  
  
The Saiyan prince spoke slowly to emphasize his words. "You morons have made a serious mistake. NEVER try to take away a Saiyan's food, and NEVER INSULT MY HAIR!"  
  
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Four tiny missiles flew out in quick succession from the Saiyan's fingers, hitting each thug in their knees.  
  
"What the f***?!! Where'd he get a gun?!!"  
  
One of them looked at his knee. "Those ain't bullets, man!! He's shooting us with f***ing peanuts!!"  
  
More legumes flew out in rapid-fire. In seconds, all four were screaming and writhing on the ground in agony from multiple salted peanut wounds.  
  
"Serves you right! Trying to harm a poor, defenseless woman," Bulma scolded. She grabbed the salt dispenser, walked up to the offenders, and kicked each one in the ribs, causing them to howl even louder. More blood- curdling screams erupted from the group as she poured salt into their open wounds.  
  
Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her actions. "I thought that you 'would try to save a rabid dog' if you could. Why so malicious now?"  
  
"They were trying to rape me! Nobody hurts me and gets away with it." She gave them all another kick for good measure. "You surprised me, too. Why didn't you kill them?"  
  
"Listen."  
  
Bulma listened. "All I hear are those guys screaming and crying."  
  
"Exactly," the Saiyan chuckled. "The sounds of their sufferings are so much more enjoyable." Bulma nodded in agreement and bought Vegeta another three bags of peanuts.  
  
They left the area, leaving a now bewildered peanut vendor to explain the events to the police. After hearing that a short, yet muscular, man with strange hair shot down four thugs with salted peanuts as his girlfriend kicked them and poured salt in their wounds, the police gave him a breathalyzer test. He failed.  
  
As they walked along munching on the roasted peanuts, Bulma noticed a crowd of people entering a large tent. "Vegeta, let's go in there and see what's going on. Must be a great show if that many people are entering the pavilion." They walked over to the entrance and stood in line.  
  
"Sign here, please." A young woman directed Bulma towards a ledger and handed her a pen. In the column headed "Women," Bulma printed her name and address. Under "Men," Bulma wrote "Vegeta."  
  
"Vegeta, what's your last name?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, what's the second part to your name. Like, I'm Bulma Briefs. So, you're Vegeta what?"  
  
"I am Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Bulma just left it as "Vegeta," being too lazy to add "Prince of All Saiyans".  
  
Another attendant handed each person a flowing white polyester robe. "Put the robes on when you reach the center floor," the young man instructed. Bulma did as told, but Vegeta just slung the robe over his shoulder.  
  
They followed the crowd down the bleacher steps and stood in the sunken arena. Ushers moved about the large area, organizing the people into rows. "Are you two together?" inquired one of the ushers.  
  
Vegeta scowled.  
  
"Sort of," Bulma replied.  
  
"Okay, then stand over here. He needs to be on your right. And Sir, please put your robe on. The ceremony will begin shortly." So saying, the attendant wrote down their names and positions in line and moved on to the next couple.  
  
"Just do it, Vegeta. I don't want us to stand out. Pretend it's a cape." So saying, she removed the gown from Vegeta's shoulders and draped it across both shoulders. He retained his usual crossed-armed stance and scowl. The transformation was slight, yet noticeable. "Vegeta looks regal in that," she mused to herself. "Too bad it's white. Purity and Vegeta just don't mesh."  
  
A small man ascended the stage at the front of the arena. He had short, dark, slicked-back hair and wore thick dark-rimmed glasses. His gown was purple. "Now, everyone," he spoke into the microphone, "please pay attention. To keep this simple, you need only respond with 'yes' to my questions. And listen carefully to the instructions for the dance steps."  
  
Dance? They had stumbled into some sort of giant line-dancing gig. Bulma clasped her hands together in glee. This ought to be fun. She wondered if Vegeta would dance. Bulma looked over at her partner. His face remained expressionless.  
  
"I hope we get to do the running man," she said.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"You know." The genius proceeded to demonstrate by jog-skipping in place. "Or even the achy-breaky." She showed him those moves, too.  
  
Vegeta's jaw muscles tightened. "We leave now."  
  
Bulma grabbed him as he turned. "Aww, c'mon. Let's wait it out. If they do something you don't like, then we'll leave, okay?"  
  
He grunted and reminded himself that she did save his life yesterday.  
  
She looked around and noticed multiple cameras mounted on cables across the ceiling of the tent. "Pictures! I hope they get a good one of us."  
  
The little man raised both hands to the audience to signal the beginning of the ceremony. Bulma saw the cameras move along the wire. Hoping to get a good shot, she latched onto Vegeta's arm. Bewildered by the contact, the Saiyan lost his scowl for the moment. Once the camera passed, Bulma abruptly let go of his arm, knowing how much he disliked physical contact.  
  
The little man began chanting incomprehensible phrases and periodically instructed the crowd to respond with a "Yes." After the fourth round of chanting and yesses, he paused.  
  
"Now, ladies, move to face your partners. Now hop, skip, and jump around your partner clockwise three times. And clap your hands on the jump."  
  
Bulma faced Vegeta and did as instructed.  
  
"Now, gentlemen, it's your turn to do the same around your ladies, but counter clockwise for three turns."  
  
Vegeta remained immobile. No force in the existing universe could force this Saiyan to hop, skip, jump and clap around some foolish woman. Sighing, and not wanting to ruin a moment, Bulma performed the steps around Vegeta instead. With that rotation completed, the little man began chanting again.  
  
"Congratulations, everybody. From this moment forward, may your lives together be full of joy, love, and harmony for more than a lifetime. Enjoy the rest of my festival and co-exist in peace."  
  
At that, everyone else cheered and began kissing their partners and hugging the people next to them. Several couples tried to hug the two. Bulma, feeling polite and also caught up in the reverie, returned the affections. Vegeta, with his perfected "touch me and die" glare, had no takers.  
  
Once the room quieted down, Bulma commented that they must have participated in some prayer ceremony for world peace. "Maybe this will work and the androids won't come," she hoped. When they returned the robes, she inquired about the photographs.  
  
"We'll be sending that to you in the mail in a couple of months, Miss," answered one cheery female.  
  
######## Backstage of the arena  
  
A cheery female spoke to the short, slick-haired nearsighted man. "So, Reverend Moon, the ceremony went well don't you think? We had a good turn- out."  
  
"Yes, but it wasn't as crowded as last year's. No Guinness Book record this time."  
  
More voices joined in on the conversation. "I wonder how many men were bullied into doing it this year?"  
  
"Women can be sneaky. I'm sure that some were suckered into it."  
  
"At least there will be fewer divorces and annulments this year."  
  
"You'd think that after all these years people would know what we Moonies are all about."  
  
"Yeah, but I bet that there are a few guys out there who are clueless to the fact that they had just gotten married."  
  
%%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	3. Bulma the Superhero

Disclaimer: Same as Chap one.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"Higher and a little more to the left."  
  
"Hurry it up, Woman. I do not have all day to play interior decorator."  
  
"Have a little patience. You're super strong and the only one who can fly around here. I just don't know where Dad put the ladder." Actually, she did know. It was stashed away in her lab. Looking up at his levitating form, she smiled. Since the carnival, she no longer denied her attraction for the Saiyan prince and often tried to find ways to be with him. Getting him to do grunt work was relatively simple. Vegeta always liked a good ego massage, however small.  
  
Bulma looked up and noticed his muscular legs bulging through the leg openings of his shorts. Slightly disappointed with the view, she made a mental note to get him new, looser shorts. The Saiyan had grown two sizes since he began training for the androids.  
  
"Woman, if you do not make up your mind now, I will just imbed it in the wall here." Although he seemed less inclined to brush her off, Vegeta's demeanor toward his housemate remained mostly unchanged.  
  
"Okay, okay. It looks good right there." She tossed Vegeta a few screws to mount her new shelf. "I wonder... ," she mused, and her tongue snaked out toward him.  
  
Vegeta felt a whisper wet sensation on his calf. He doubted the occurrence. Then he felt it again. "Woman, are you licking me?"  
  
Bulma looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence and feigned ignorance. "Huh? What did you say, Vegeta? I wasn't paying attention."  
  
He shook his head. "Nevermind."  
  
######  
  
Time to shower. He wiped himself down before donning his T-shirt. He did not want the ditzy blonde one pawing him again. To Vegeta, any contact other than those during sparring was considered too much physical contact. He passed by the older Briefs woman as she was watering her plants. She waved cheerily at him.  
  
As he walked up the stairs to his room, he heard grunts and heavy breathing coming from the room next to his.  
  
"Just a couple more," she gasped. "Niiiiinnnnne...," came the groan.  
  
THUD CLUNK A couple of heavy objects hit the floor.  
  
"Dammit! Stupid, weak, body!" screamed the all too familiar voice.  
  
He heard a barrage of foul language followed by some foot stomping as she launched into another tirade. Within moments, Bulma yanked open her bedroom door and walked smack! -- into a Saiyan prince.  
  
Locking onto his dark eyes, she saw the injustice of it all. Bulma growled into his face as she grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt. "Why?! Why can't I become a superhero?"  
  
Before he could comprehend the statement, she shoved herself back and stalked toward the kitchen, still muttering under her breath about fairness, mutants, and Saiyans. He just stared at her retreating back. She was dressed like he, in a ragged T-shirt and black jersey shorts.  
  
He looked down at the two crumpled sections of his shirt and pulled out the neckline to examine his chest. Yep, his nipples were still intact, although a little red from the twisting of her tiny fists. Vegeta shook his head and peered past her doorway. A workout bench sat in the middle of the room. Dumb-bells of varying weights were scattered about the floor.  
  
"So, she's been training." He went in and picked up some weights. "Hmmpf! Even a babe on Vegetasei could toss these with ease. How pathetically weak."  
  
Bulma sat in the kitchen, still ranting. "I have beauty, I have brains, why can't I have super strength and fly? Why couldn't I have been born strong, like everyone else I know?"  
  
Unbeknownst to most people, Bulma owned a large collection of comic books, mostly Spiderman, Wolverine, and Ranma 1/2. Unfortunately, she sometimes slipped into another reality after reading them. "Aaahh, to be able to fly about and kick some ass."  
  
#######  
  
"Vegeta! Dinner time!"  
  
He ignored her. Ten seconds later, her face appeared on the video screen.  
  
"Vegeta, come in for dinner."  
  
He continued to ignore her.  
  
"Vegeta," she said slowly, "As my guest, I expect you to come in for dinner, remember? If you refuse, I will sabotage the gravity room to the point that even my dad can't figure out how to fix it for a week."  
  
"Woman, you would not dare."  
  
"How long have you lived here, Vegeta?"  
  
"Fine!" He shut off the machine and marched into the house. "Stupid, overbearing wench."  
  
"I heard that!" The communications link was still on.  
  
"I meant for you to hear!"  
  
Dinner was quiet as usual. The prince never had anything to say. Mrs. Briefs informed them that Yamcha was coming back to the city sometime that week. Bulma smiled happily and clapped her hands together. Yamcha was still a dear friend and she missed him.  
  
Vegeta lifted his eyes from his plate and saw a dreamy look on Bulma's face. He surmised that she was fantasizing about that loser ex-boyfriend of hers. "Hmmpf!"  
  
"What was that Vegeta?" Bulma's mother asked.  
  
Not wanting to be the focus of attention, he quickly replied, "The Woman wishes to be a superhero."  
  
"Again?" Dr. Briefs interjected. "Bulma, are you reading those comic books again? I thought that you quit. Remember that last incident?"  
  
Before Bulma could stop him, Dr. Briefs continued his tale to a now interested Saiyan. "She tried to get a radioactive spider to bite her and only ended up in the emergency room with a severe allergic reaction and radiation poisoning! Get a grip on reality, Daughter! Your mother and I do not want to experience something like that again."  
  
"Dad! I was really young at the time. I was only twenty-five. Besides, I haven't bought any new comics in ages."  
  
"Then stop re-reading the ones you already own."  
  
Bulma blushed. "I can't help it. Spiderman... and Wolverine... so powerful.," she trailed off, becoming dreamy again. Bulma's mother giggled and winked at her.  
  
The Saiyan's curiosity was piqued. She was not thinking of her weakling boyfriend but some others? He wondered about these superheroes. He thought that the Woman's friends were the strongest beings on the planet.  
  
After his workout, Vegeta walked toward his room. He paused at Bulma's door, hearing the grunts and groans again. He knocked.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Vegeta."  
  
"What!" She never expected Vegeta to knock. Perhaps the prince had manners after all. "What do you want?"  
  
". . . Nothing."  
  
Bulma burst through the door. "Wait." It was not everyday Vegeta asked for something. "Do you have a question?"  
  
He looked at her and nodded once. "You apparently still desire to become a superhero."  
  
Bulma nodded. "Who doesn't want to have special powers? Come here. I'll show you." He followed her into her room. She reached underneath her desk for a long, narrow cardboard box. "These are my Spiderman collection." She opened the box and pulled out an early edition for him. "I keep them in plastic to protect them," she stated proudly.  
  
He removed the flimsy comic from its protective shield and examined it.  
  
"Careful!" she cried.  
  
Vegeta gingerly flipped through the pages. When he finished, he handed it back to her. "It is a flimsy book full of pictures and some words. Surely it could not tell a story with so few pages."  
  
"That's the point. The authors only write enough so that you want to read more and have to buy more comics."  
  
"Makes sense in this capitalistic society. Define their purpose, especially those two you were mumbling about at dinner."  
  
Bulma began her explanation of superheroes: these beings had special powers, saved the world, protectors of justice...  
  
The Saiyan thought that they sounded remarkably like Kakkarott and the others. So, the Woman desired to be like them.  
  
"Okay, Spiderman is the guy I just showed you. He gets his powers from being bitten by a radioactive spider. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that in real life."  
  
"And Wolverine?"  
  
"Wolverine is this short, ill-tempered guy with wild hair who has an amazing ability to heal. He was trained to be an assassin -- Weapon X. His skeleton is adamantium and claws come out from his knuckles. Usually, he causes more trouble than solves them because of his temper. And he kills. No, correction, he doesn't kill anymore. Or at least he tries not to."  
  
Vegeta wondered for a moment why that character seemed so familiar. "And why do you have such an interest in them? They are imaginary."  
  
"It's an escape from reality. I like Spiderman because he has real problems -- rent, job, girls. And he's a genius. I like Wolverine because he's unpredictable. He's pure rage unleashed when he's mad. And it doesn't hurt the way that they're drawn, either. Mmm-mmm."  
  
Vegeta narrowed his eyes further at her comment. "Why do they wear costumes?"  
  
"Are you kidding? Defending the world takes a toll on the environment. Buildings get blown up. Forests get burned. Innocent bystanders get injured. If people knew who these heroes were, they'd have lawsuits coming at them from all directions."  
  
Vegeta nodded, understanding now why Kakarrot chose to battle in remote areas. And the lawsuits would explain why he lived in the boonies and bathed in a barrel. The Saiyan prince was familiar with Kakarott's living conditions. He had sparred with the third-class at his mountain home during the times Dr. Briefs did maintenance checks on the gravity pod. Vegeta's thoughts turned back to the Woman. "Did not the other losers teach you anything?"  
  
"They were always training for a tournament or trying to save the world. I would have just held them back at that time."  
  
"Why do you not invent a suit to enhance your powers?"  
  
"Thought about it. But that's no fun. I want the power to be inherently mine."  
  
"What about modifying your genetic code or chemical concoctions?"  
  
"Thought about that, too. Nope. No one's messing with my DNA. All those cloned mice and sheep always have something wrong with them. Out of the question there. Besides, biology isn't my field. And as far as drugs are concerned, all I ever succeeded in creating were laxatives. Poor Oolong." She thought back on Oolong and the piggy diarrhea pills. The pills' effects lasted for almost two years on the little porker.  
  
"Then you are chasing a dream, Woman."  
  
Bulma became dejected. "Yeah. I came to that conclusion long ago. I just relapse every so often. I mean, if Krillen and Yamcha can become super strong and fly, then why can't I?"  
  
Vegeta gave a "don't know, don't really care" look.  
  
"Heaven knows that I've tried. The spirit is willing, yet the flesh is weak. I guess I shouldn't be greedy. I am a gorgeous genius."  
  
"Vanity, thy name is Woman."  
  
Bulma scrunched up her face. "The name is Bulma! Can't you address people by their rightful names for once? Speaking of which, Yamcha, and not loser or weakling, is visiting this week. I don't want you starting any fights with him, got that?"  
  
"You need not concern yourself. I have no desire to waste my very breath on that pathetic human."  
  
#######  
  
Vegeta walked toward the door of Capsule Corps.' living quarters after a session in the gravity pod. His Saiyan ears picked up heavy breathing and groaning. 'The woman must have resumed her exercises. I must give her credit. She perseveres even though the task is beyond her reach."  
  
Opening the door, the sight before his eyes momentarily stunned him -- a writhing mass of naked, tangled limbs were on the living room floor. "No! Not them....!"  
  
%%%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	4. Eye Openers

Disclaimer: Same as Chap one  
  
%%%%%%%%  
  
Recap: Opening the door, the sight before his eyes momentarily stunned him -- a writhing mass of naked tangled limbs were on the living room floor. "No! Not them....!"  
  
His long locks stood out in shocks of black. Sweat rolled in rivulets down his massive back. Her blue hair whipped about wildly. She raised a hand to spank his bare bottom. The slap resounded throughout the house.  
  
Vegeta clutched his stomach and clenched his teeth to keep the bile down. How could they? Yajirobe and Marron!  
  
Kidding!  
  
%%%%%%%%%  
  
Before he realized it, a scream tore through his throat. "AAAHHHGGG!"  
  
The Briefs woman was around the corner watering the plants when she heard the tortured noise.  
  
She quickly rounded the building and saw Vegeta stagger out the door and sink to the ground, pressing his fists to his eyes. She came closer and heard the anguished whimpered words, "... why... why now... why me..."  
  
Fortunately, she still held the watering can and quickly dowsed his face with water.  
  
Bewildered and sputtering, Vegeta grabbed the can away and glared up at her. "Are you trying to drown me, Woman?"  
  
"Hey! I was just trying to help. I thought you ki-blasted your eyes by the way you were carrying on. What happened?"  
  
"I saw...," he shuddered, unable to complete his sentence.  
  
Bulma's mother and father cautiously peeked out from the doorway. "Uh, Bulma, Honey, is everything all right? We thought we heard screaming. But then again, that could have been us," her mother tittered. Her father lit a cigarette.  
  
Bulma watched her parents and assessed the situation. Both were flushed and grinning ridiculously. Vegeta had his face turned so far away from them that she thought he came close to an exorcist imitation. Realizing what her guest must have seen, she pressed her lips together and tried to stifle a laugh. Her parents, though older, were still very much in love and very active. She winked at her them as they ducked back inside.  
  
"Get up, Vegeta. Let's get you inside and cleaned up."  
  
"Are they still in there?" he asked nervously.  
  
"Nah. They should be gone by now. Let's go." She grabbed his arm, giving his biceps an appreciative squeeze, and entered the living room. Vegeta gazed cautiously about and let her guide him. Bulma looked down as she passed by the couch. "Hey, Dad, you forgot your thong!"  
  
"The old man wears a thong?!!" Vegeta shrieked -- the first and only time in his life that he had ever shrieked. His eyelids slammed shut.  
  
Bulmal thought quickly, so as to not further spook the Saiyan, "No, no. I mean thong as in slippers, flip-flops, shower shoes. Yeah, that's it." She deftly nudged the garment under the couch with her foot.  
  
"Vegeta, this way. You can open your eyes again. We're in the kitchen now."  
  
"Grr...my eyelids will not separate."  
  
Bulma watched the Saiyan try to pry his eyelids apart with his thumbs and index fingers.  
  
"They must have adhered together when I thought your old man was coming to retrieve his...," another sentence lingered.  
  
Rifling around the cabinets, she finally found the hot water bottle and filled it with hot tap water. "Here, put this over your eyes. Maybe they'll relax enough for you to open them." The genius was wearing a denim tube top and showing off major cleavage. In her generosity, Bulma decided to give her guest a show to help him forget the recent events. She smiled smugly. Leaning across the table provocatively, she removed the hot water bottle from Vegeta's eyes.  
  
He slowly peeled back his eyelids. He squinted, his vision still blurry from the mucous secreted by his ducts.  
  
"What do you see, Vegeta?" her voice dripping sugar and honey.  
  
He blinked, causing more mucous to film his eyes. Still squinting, "The plumber dared to return?" he growled menacingly.  
  
"...Huh?!" Bulma whipped her head about before realization dawned. "You jerk! How dare you say something like that about my perfect breasts!" She was livid.  
  
Vegeta continued to blink in confusion and winced at the tone of her voice. "Well, it did look like the disgusting backside of that hideous servant."  
  
"You think that my breasts look like plumber's butt? You...you myopic moron!"  
  
He held up a hand to stop any further screeching. With a deep breath, he started, "Your breasts are indeed more attractive."  
  
Bulma relaxed into a smile.  
  
He resumed, "Yours are less hairy and without boils."  
  
"Aaagh!" She hurled the hot water bottle at him (which he easily caught) and stomped off.  
  
Vegeta stared blankly after her. He had been honest, and he did compliment her, although that part disturbed him. In all his years, he had never deliberately praised another, so why did he do it for this loud-mouthed, temperamental female? He shrugged, chalking it up to his recent mental trauma, coupled with the fact that he wanted to shut her up quickly. Yes, those were the reasons.  
  
The warrior finally made it to his room. He heard a light rap on the door and knew that it was she. "What, Woman?"  
  
Bulma poked her head inside the room. "I guess I over-reacted a little. I know that you weren't in your right mind." Continuing before Vegeta could respond, "Anyway, you'll be fine. It'll just take some time to get over it. I remember freaking out when I first walked in on them myself. I hid in the bathroom for two hours, and it took me weeks to be able to look them in the eyes after that."  
  
"Their eyes will be the only things that I can look at from now on," he mumbled. He shuddered again as the unbidden images re-entered his mind.  
  
"Why don't you get ready for bed? You've been traumatized enough today."  
  
As soon as the door closed, he went to the adjoining bathroom, showered, and changed into black silk pajama pants. He collapsed onto the bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  
  
###########  
  
"Mornin', Vegeta." Bulma had gotten up earlier than usual. After her guest's comment about her breasts last night, she decided to dress modestly in a light blue T-shirt and khaki clam-diggers.  
  
Vegeta only grunted an acknowledgment as he reached for a glass of milk.  
  
"Did you have a good sleep?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Sorry again for last night."  
  
"Do not mention it. In fact, do not mention it ever again."  
  
"Oh, really, now. You should be mature about this. It was a natural, beautiful act between two people in love."  
  
"They should have been discreet and taken it to their room. Besides, if the act is so beautiful, then why do you humans use the term 'bump ugly'?"  
  
"It's called 'making love' you overgrown delinquent!"  
  
Seeing her mouth opening again, he interrupted, "No more. I am going to train. And I do not need flashes of them," he spat the words, "on my mind."  
  
By noon, Vegeta took a break from his training and came in for a glass of water. Bulma sat at the kitchen counter on a barstool. "Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Why don't you join me? Mom and Dad have gone grocery shopping."  
  
They ate quietly. Vegeta ate neatly, yet with the gusto of a Saiyan. Bulma picked at her food as she watched him. Her curiosity exploded. "Vegeta, have you ever had sex?"  
  
The prince stopped in mid-bite. He regarded her for a moment, finished chewing, and swallowed. "With males or females?"  
  
The genius fell out of her chair. She clambered back into her seat as gracefully as possible and took a deep breath. "Uhmm, females?"  
  
"No."  
  
Her eyes widened in disbelief and her jaw dropped. "No way. Not in HFIL way!! Oh, no!" she hissed.  
  
Vegeta continued to eat, never breaking his rhythm.  
  
After a long pause, "With males?" she squeaked.  
  
"No." He finished his meal.  
  
Her face dead-panned. "Then why the HFIL did you say that?! Why couldn't you just answer yes or no to the first question!?"  
  
He got up to return to the gravity machine. "I was not inclined to it. Why would you care anyway?"  
  
She stared agape at his retreating back, regained her composure and let a few curses out, before Gasp! The Saiyan revealed that he had never had sex. How "interesting." A silly wicked grin began to etch itself across her face.  
  
####  
  
Vegeta rummaged around in the refrigerator for a midnight snack. Grabbing an armful of fruit, he sat down at the kitchen table.  
  
Bulma entered and yawned. He barely gave her a glance and said nothing. She went to the oven and pulled out a roast turkey. Setting it on the table before the Saiyan, she seated herself across from him.  
  
"Here, Vegeta. You need to replenish your calories after that work-out."  
  
He eyed her suspiciously.  
  
"I just couldn't sleep. The novel I've been reading is getting scary. So, I thought that I'd join you." She pushed the turkey closer to him. "Dig in."  
  
Vegeta ripped out a drumstick. Bulma watched him as he devoured the bird.  
  
"Were there no women working for Frieza?"  
  
He answered her around bites. "Frieza was the closest thing to a woman when I was in his ranks. Jeice came a close second." Only bones remained.  
  
Bulma went back to the oven and pulled out a hunk of roast beef. She set it before the Saiyan. "You didn't rape the women of the planets you purged?"  
  
Vegeta sneered in disgust. "I am a warrior. I live for battle. Saiyans do not participate in such sexual perversions." The last bite of meat disappeared down his throat.  
  
Bulma smiled and retrieved several stacks of club sandwiches hidden in the back of the fridge. "You never had a lover?"  
  
"No one had ever been worthy."  
  
Five pizzas: "Have you ever thought of getting a wife?"  
  
"A life-mate would be impossible, since my whole race had been destroyed. I did not dwell on it."  
  
Ten bowls of noodles: "Life-mate?"  
  
"Saiyans, as you Earthlings would put it, marry for life."  
  
Two Peking ducks: "How many mates can a Saiyan have? Can they be of another race?"  
  
"One. And yes, though that is rare."  
  
One large vat of chocolate pudding: "No other women interested you enough for you to pursue?"  
  
"My focus was to become the ultimate warrior and defeat Frieza. And no one had ever been worthy."  
  
Three cheese cakes: "You've said that. What if one partner, after they marry, decides that they want someone else?"  
  
"Impossible after a bond is complete. Saiyans are fiercely loyal to their mates. Besides, there would be consequences."  
  
Ten sweet rolls: "Is a bond the Saiyan version of a marriage?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Four cartons of ice cream: "So, Saiyans bond for life and never stray."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Wow! Excluding the tendency for violence, your race would have been perfect," the matrimonial-minded Bulma proclaimed.  
  
"We *were* perfect." Vegeta wiped his mouth and left for his room.  
  
Bulma thought about their conversation. A notion walked slowly across her mind and parked itself. "If Vegeta and I have sex, then I would be his first," she mused aloud. The genius never liked being second in anything.  
  
His hand slipped on the bedroom doorknob. He thought he heard the Woman use his name and the words 'sex' and 'I' in the same sentence. He shook his head. He was imagining things.  
  
%%%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! Happy Holidays! 


	5. Dish Best Served Cold

%%%%%%  
  
A battered Vegeta emerged from his training pod after days of intense workouts. Barely able to stand erect, he stumbled through the house and collapsed on the floor in his bedroom. "Damn! Still not a Super Saiyan!"  
  
Unable to accept the disappointment, he tried to rationalize. Perhaps his body had reached its limit and needed time to recover. Then once healed, he would gain an incredible power surge. His thoughts drifted back to when he had Krillen blast him on Namek, and Dende healed his body to make him stronger. "Hell of good that did. I still died. And now I'm kissing the floor," he droned before oblivion took over.  
  
Bulma watched Vegeta go to his room. "It's about time. That guy does nothing but train, eat and sleep."  
  
Lunch came and went, and Vegeta was nowhere in sight. A bit concerned, Bulma crept up to his room and quietly inched open the door. She peeked in and saw the Saiyan sprawled on the floor.  
  
"Wow, he must be exhausted if he couldn't even make it to the bed." Unable to drag her eyes away, she continued to ogle his body. "I have to admit, all that training has made a difference. He looks better than when he first came to Earth."  
  
She remembered a scrawnier Vegeta dressed in the girlie armor that looked like flower petals were growing out of his hips. "And he had the nerve to insult the pink shirt/yellow pants combo I bought for him." She chuckled at the memory and quickly shut the door before her mirth became full laughter. "Serves him right for calling me a servant woman."  
  
#######  
  
"Yamcha!" Bulma ran and hugged her ex-boyfriend. "I'm so glad that you're back. Should we set up a room for you and Puar?"  
  
"Thanks for the offer, but we rented an apartment nearby. I just came to visit. I've missed you, Bulma."  
  
"I missed you, too. How was training in the desert?"  
  
"It was all right for awhile, but Puar caught ringworm from the desert rats. She's at the apartment now, soaking in a sulfur bath."  
  
"Oh, the poor dear. Would you like to stay for dinner? We serve plenty of food, you know, now that Vegeta eats with us."  
  
"Vegeta eats with you? I thought that his royal highness was above mixing with commoners."  
  
"He's not so bad. We don't see him much, except at mealtimes. And that's because I make him come in to eat," she stated proudly.  
  
"He listens to you? And you're still alive?" Yamcha was impressed. "How do you do it?"  
  
"My dad gave him the gravity machine, and I can take it away. Besides, he likes food as much as Goku. Well, how about joining us for dinner?"  
  
"Sorry, Bulma. I've already made plans. But do you mind if I train here at Capsule Corp.? My place is a bit small."  
  
"No problem." They talked and reminisced for hours before Yamcha left on his date.  
  
Vegeta woke inhaling carpet fibers. Still sore, he decided to continue with his break from training. He showered and dressed in casual clothes. The Woman had made dressing easy for the fashion-indifferent Saiyan. As long as the colors were not those of flowers, he wore anything in any combination, although he seemed to prefer shades of blue. She bought him two belts and two pairs of shoes in universal black and brown. The Woman had insisted that walking about in his fighting suit -- skin-hugging, nothing-left-to-the-imagination space material fighting suit -- was not appropriate attire on Earth unless one was a professional wrestler -- whatever that meant. Besides, the blonde Briefs woman seemed less attentive when he wore regular clothes. That, at least, was motivation for looking "normal".  
  
Dinner was just beginning when Vegeta entered the kitchen.  
  
"Good. I didn't have to come get you. Glad to see that you dressed for dinner," Bulma remarked.  
  
"Oh, my! Isn't Vegeta so handsome, Bulma? Maybe you should take him out. He looks too good to keep at home," giggled her mother.  
  
"Been there, done that, shot some thugs and maimed them," the young Briefs quipped.  
  
Dinner ended, and Vegeta headed to the library. He had learned how to read during the time the Nameks were also staying at Capsule Corp. Not having much else to do then, he had taught himself to recognize the Earth symbols and the sounds associated with them. Since he already knew how to speak the language, learning to read was relatively easy for the highly intelligent noble Saiyan. His favorite tome at the time had been the dictionary. Hence, the prince became more articulate and less vulgar.  
  
Vegeta pulled each book halfway out of the shelf to examine the covers. He knew to judge books by their covers. Through a few trials and many errors, he eventually learned to avoid all those with pictures of athletic, shirtless men with windswept hair. He never understood the appeal of such stories. They usually left him confused, disgusted, or blushing.  
  
Vegeta removed a book from the wall and skimmed it. He settled himself down to read. A couple of hours passed as he flipped through several books.  
  
Bulma came into the room and sat down in an armchair across from him. He felt her stare. "What?"  
  
"Why aren't you training? Not like I'm complaining, but this is strange behavior for you."  
  
"A Saiyan becomes more powerful once his body heals from battle or training. My body requires rest, but my mind need not remain idle." He sneered and tossed a book aside. "However, I anticipate that acquiring any worthwhile knowledge from this backward planet would be slim."  
  
She looked at the pile of books on the end table by his side. "You read fast. What are the books about?"  
  
"Anything and everything."  
  
Bulma rose to leave, seeing that the Saiyan was in no mood to converse. Actually, he was never in the mood.  
  
By midnight, Vegeta had read through three-quarters of Dr. Briefs' martial arts collection. Aware that the stories were fiction, the Saiyan did glean some inherent truths. He processed the information gained: Incredible power can be achieved through intense training. One must focus on training with no distractions. And the lecherous evil monk was always second best.  
  
########  
  
"Waahhh!!"  
  
"Head away from the noise. Head away from the noise," his mind commanded. No such luck.  
  
"Vegeta! Look what I did. I'm a bad, bad person," Bulma cried. She grabbed his hand and yanked him outside to her car.  
  
Curious about her sin, he let her lead him. He looked in the passenger seat and saw a gray rabbit curled in a fetal position.  
  
"I swerved behind him, but instead of jumping forward, he jumped backwards! I barely hit it, but I k-k-killed a b-b-bunnyyyyy!"  
  
Vegeta winced at the noise. "And my concern is?"  
  
"Vegeta, could you please take care of it for me?" She was hiccupping through her sobs now. "Please? 'Hic' and don't be 'hic' so cruel as to 'hic' just toss it in the trash 'hic hic hic'. I don't want his death to be 'hic' so pointless." Hic hic hic waaah....  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. "I will dispose of the creature if it will end the cacophony created by your voice."  
  
Bulma retreated to the house and left Vegeta with the rabbit. He picked up the rodent by the scruff of its neck and took a moment to contemplate the situation. He walked to the backyard and blasted a small hole in the ground.  
  
She looked out the window toward the backyard and saw the resident Saiyan tamping fresh earth over a hole with his foot. "He actually buried the rabbit for me. Who knew Vegeta could be so sweet."  
  
  
  
Hours later, a blood-drenched Saiyan prince landed in the yard.  
  
"What happened to you?!" She ran over and began to examine him, concern clearly written on her face.  
  
"The blood is not mine. I was sparring with Kakarott -"  
  
"This is Goku's blood? What did you do to him?! Did you --"  
  
"We sparred. But the blood is not his. His brat --"  
  
"Gohan?! You hurt little Gohan?! You beast! Just because he kicked your a--"  
  
"Would you shut up and let me finish!" he roared. "As I was saying, Kakarott's brat did not desire fish for dinner. He went hunting for those dinosaurs. Unfortunately, he has not learned to control his ki-blasts, resulting in the creature's blood splattering me, the Namek, and that fool Kakarott."  
  
Bulma noticed Vegeta holding a package. "What's that in your hands?"  
  
"Kakarott's screeching woman insisted that we have this with our meal." He held out the paper sack to her.  
  
Bulma backed away and eyed it skeptically. As much as she liked most of Chi-Chi's cooking, the Sons were still country bumpkins with "rustic" tastes. Knowing that Gohan killed a dinosaur for dinner made her suspicious. "I'm not touching it with all that blood. Just drop it in the kitchen on your way in. My mom will take care of it."  
  
"Bulma, dear. Would you go get your father and Vegeta for dinner?"  
  
"Mom, you made dinner? That's so nice."  
  
"Well, dear, I couldn't pass up the opportunity this time. I just love it when I get the freshest ingredients. And I was dying to try out this French stew recipe."  
  
When they were all seated, Bulma's mother dished out stew for everyone and added several more food items for Vegeta.  
  
"Mmm-mmm. This is delicious, Mom. Those Frenchies sure can cook."  
  
"Honey," Dr. Briefs addressed his wife, "this is reminiscent of that ragout we had on our vacation to Paris. Wherever did you get the ingredients?"  
  
"We had most of the seasonings here. Vegeta, bless his heart, provided the meat."  
  
"Vegeta provided the meat?" Chi-Chi's bloody package flashed across Bulma's mind. "Oh, no." She dropped her spoon. "Mom, did Vegeta tell you what kind of meat it is?"  
  
"Why of course, Dear. Don't be silly. I wouldn't cook with something I don't know, although it is more exotic than we're used to eating."  
  
"Whew! For a moment there, I thought that we were eating dinosaur meat."  
  
Everybody laughed, except the Saiyan, who was busy consuming his dinner. "Silly, Bulma," her mother said. "Ragout is a rabbit stew."  
  
Rabbit. Rabbit. "RABBIT!? VEGETA GAVE YOU A RABBIT?!!"  
  
Vegeta heard his name and frowned. "Stop with the screeching, Woman."  
  
"I told you to take care of it. Like bury it in the backyard or cremate it -- not serve it up as dinner!"  
  
"I did as you asked. Now it's death has a purpose. You killed it to feed us," he rationalized simply.  
  
"Then what's in the hole you dug and filled?"  
  
"The offal and skin."  
  
"You are sick!" she screamed.  
  
"Bulma, Dear," her mother tried to soothe her, "if you don't like the stew, why don't you eat Chi-Chi's steamed buns? The note in the bag said that the dinosaur meat was freshly butchered today."  
  
In her fury, the young genius toppled her chair as she left the table.  
  
Vegeta watched her leave with absolute apathy. When the Saiyan returned his attention to the table, the good doctor was finishing his stew and had Bulma's bowl already cradled in the crook of his elbow.  
  
"Stupid Vegeta!" But she knew that she had no valid reason to be mad at him. In his own twisted way, he did do as she asked. However, an angry Bulma was always an irrational, vengeful Bulma. "I should do something. I don't want him to think that he's got the best of me."  
  
######  
  
A Couple of Days Later  
  
Vegeta finished his shower and entered his room. Since the two rooms were connected, the Saiyan could walk about in his towel. The lights suddenly flicked off as he reached to pull out his dresser drawer. Shrugging off the darkness, he took out a pair of briefs.  
  
"Girk! What the hell?" These were not his usual undergarments. He felt a draft on his backside. "Slap, slap" sounded as bare hand hit bare bottom. The one light bulb in his mind burst bright. "That Woman!"  
  
Bulma pounded on his door. "Vegeta! Let me in. I'm afraid of the dark!" she cried.  
  
"Get yourself a flashlight. I am not your nanny!" he yelled through the door. He rummaged quickly through his drawers, finding nothing appropriate. The Woman had stashed his dresser full of the vile garments.  
  
"I have to come in. This hallway's really dark." Bulma threw open the door and shined her flashlight about the room. The beam landed on a Saiyan prince quickly tugging on a pair of shorts. She cursed silently. "Damn! Too late. I would have loved to have seen him in a thong."  
  
"Get out of my room, Woman."  
  
"No." The lights came back on. She walked a few steps into the room and crossed her arms. "Make me."  
  
Vegeta slowly took a step, and another.  
  
Bulma noticed his face twitching with each step. "Why are you walking so funny? Did you injure yourself," she snickered.  
  
He had had enough. Picking her up roughly by the shoulders, he carried her past the threshold of his doorway, dropped her on the floor, and slammed the door in her face. He could hear her guffawing down the hall.  
  
"Oh, she will pay."  
  
%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	6. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

%%%%%%%%  
  
The warrior ceased punching when he felt a premonition -- trouble. And trouble was walking hand in hand with his blue-haired housemate. He just knew it. "What could she possibly do? She is too weak to harm me," he reasoned. He banished any further nagging thoughts and resumed his training.  
  
Bulma's face appeared on the vid-com. "Hey, Vegeta. I've got your routine down. Four days of training, one day to recuperate. You're taking the day off to rest tomorrow, right? Let's go to the beach."  
  
He performed multiple flips in quick succession and launched himself off of the wall. He ignored her.  
  
"Hey! Did you hear me?" she yelled.  
  
"Get the loser or your parents to go with you."  
  
"Yamcha's taking Puar to the vet. Dad has work, and Mom won't go anywhere without him. Come on. I want to show off my new bathing suit. I even bought a pair of swimming trunks for you."  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
"Then you give me no choice. I asked nicely, but, nooo, you had to be rude."  
  
The hum in the gravity room slowed, eventually becoming a series of clicks. "Woman, I demand that you turn the gravity back on this instant!"  
  
"Not until you agree to go with me to the beach."  
  
"Go by yourself."  
  
"I don't want to. It's no fun to go alone. Agree with me and I won't disturb you anymore." Well, a woman did have the prerogative to change her mind. "Do it!"  
  
"Fine," he growled.  
  
#######  
  
Vegeta, dressed in his new dark blue swim trunks and a Hawaiian shirt, waited for the Woman. She came bounding down the stairs in a pink sundress cover-up.  
  
"Woo-hoo. I'm so excited. I haven't been to the beach in ages," she gushed.  
  
"Are you ready to go, Woman?"  
  
"Yup. Just let me encapsulate the picnic basket." She looked down at his feet. "This is the first time that I've ever seen your feet. They look nice in those flip-flops. Glad to see that you trim your toenails."  
  
He cast his eyes downward. "Yes, I must admit, I do look good in the thongs."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Man, what an ego," she thought. "He's proud of his own two feet."  
  
They rode in her car because she insisted on taking the scenic route. Once at the beach, Bulma pulled out her capsules and set up their area.  
  
"Now, to get some color on this body," she sighed. The beauty slipped the sundress off to reveal a most flattering red halter-top bikini with matching teeny bottom. Vegeta's eyes grazed her entire form.  
  
"Do you think that I'm gorgeous?" she asked haughtily. Gohan, the cute little boy, had told her about Vegeta's comment when they were on Namek.  
  
"Yes," he answered honestly. The Saiyan prince had never denied her attractiveness. He had just never mentioned it. Bulma beamed brighter than the sun. "Unfortunately, you come attached with that mouth."  
  
"You are such an adolescent jerk!"  
  
Vegeta only smirked and took off his shirt. "Do you think that I'm gorgeous?" he mocked her.  
  
"I've seen better," she lied.  
  
"Oh, really?" He quirked an eyebrow. Bulma watched in horrific fascination as he unbuttoned his swim-trunks and let them drop to the ground. Stepping out of them, he kicked the shorts to her feet.  
  
"Great dragonballs, I've died and gone to Chippendale's heaven!" her mind silently screamed.  
  
There stood her resident Saiyan, wearing nothing but the undergarment that she had placed in his dresser the other night. Vegeta watched with amusement as drool slowly crept out from the corner of the Woman's mouth.  
  
"Like what you see now, Woman?"  
  
HOT DAMN, YEAH!!! flashed in neon across her brain. Her mouth hung slack, emitting gurgling and panting noises.  
  
"BUL-ma?" Vegeta waved his hand in front of her face.  
  
"Hey, Bulma! I thought I recognized that wild hairdo of yours," a familiar voice called.  
  
Bulma awoke from her trance and turned around to see Goku, in green swim trunks and T-shirt, walking toward them. Chi-Chi looked quite lovely in her purple one-piece tank with lime sarong. Gohan dressed like his father.  
  
The prince, also recognizing that irritatingly jovial voice, turned his royal back to the third class warrior and his family.  
  
"OhMyKais! Vegeta!" Goku screamed and lunged back at Chi-Chi.  
  
"Goku, let go of me!" Chi-Chi shrieked. "Stop covering my eyes. I want to see Bulma in her new bathing suit." Chi-Chi desperately clawed at the hand her husband had wrapped over her eyes.  
  
"Chi-Chi, Vegeta's here. And he's not umm, ah... umm appropriate."  
  
"I don't care what he's wearing. We're at the beach. Everyone's half- naked anyway. Surely you're not jealous of him?"  
  
"Heck, no!" Goku insisted. "It's just that I know how proper you are, Chi- Chi."  
  
"Hi, Vegeta," Gohan politely greeted. "Umm, that's... umm... black suits you."  
  
Vegeta glared at the boy. What was this kid, a saint?  
  
"It's midnight blue," Bulma corrected.  
  
"Jeez, Vegeta. I knew you were daring, but that's a bit much. Actually, it's a bit too little. Where'd you get the nerve to buy that, anyway?"  
  
"The Woman purchased it for me," Vegeta replied and noticed with complete satisfaction that the Woman's blush matched the color of her bikini.  
  
"What? What is Vegeta wearing? A Speedo? That's no big deal," Chi-Chi declared, still trying to remove Goku's hands from her eyes.  
  
"Mom, it's a thong."  
  
Mrs. Son fainted.  
  
Goku caught her before she hit the sand. Within seconds, Chi-Chi stirred. "Goku, this heat must be affecting my hearing. I thought that Gohan said that Vegeta..." she turned her head and took a glance at the prince. Chi- Chi passed out again.  
  
"I guess I'd better take Chi-Chi home. I hope she wakes up in time to make dinner." Goku looked down at his wife. "She sure is beautiful, even unconscious. Aww, look at that cute smile on her face. It was nice seeing you, Bulma. You, too, Vegeta, although maybe not so much of you next time."  
  
Gohan waved, and the Sons flew off.  
  
Bulma plopped down in the lounger with a huff. "How dare you embarrass me, Vegeta?!"  
  
"Do not blame me, Woman. You purchased the garment with the intention of seeing me in it. Do you deny that?"  
  
She crossed her arms and huffed again. Stupid sexy Saiyan! How does he manage to do what she wanted and still embarrass her? "Vegeta, put your shorts back on and let's go home. I don't feel like staying here anymore."  
  
The prince bent to pull up his trunks --  
  
"Yeeoowwch!" He bolted upright. Looking down, he saw several tiny indentations forming an elliptical pattern on his flesh. "Woman, you bit me!" He was incredulous. "Right here! ... In public! ... And it's bleeding!"  
  
"Well, it didn't do a heck of a lot of good to my teeth, either," Bulma pouted, tapping her front teeth with the tips of her fingernails. "What have you got in there? Steel?" She lightly chomped her teeth together, making sure that they attained no lasting damage. "Hey, Vegeta, you really are bleeding."  
  
Vegeta still had his shorts partially down to examine his wound. Quicker than thought, Bulma swiped at the blood with her index finger and smeared the drop on her lower lip. The Saiyan watched in horror as she creased her lips together, causing the viscous fluid to spread and tint her lips a deep crimson. He gasped when she licked them.  
  
He wondered what the hell she was doing. His mind was trapped in a quagmire of questions. "First she licks me, and then she bites me and licks up my blood. Is she some kind of cannibal or something?"  
  
"Vegeta," Bulma slurred drunkenly, "you taste yummy." She took another swipe at his derriere and licked off another drop.  
  
"Enough!" Vegeta pushed away from her and pulled up his trunks. "Gather your things. We will leave now!"  
  
While Bulma was busy encapsulating the beach items, a group of women began to congregate around the Saiyan. Vegeta, deeply perturbed by his housemate's action, took no notice of them. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he replayed the recent events.  
  
"Ooh, good things do come in small packages," giggled a blonde.  
  
"Oh, I don't know." Another girl eyed his front appreciatively. "Good things come in "big" packages, too."  
  
"Well, you know what they say," piped another voice. "A hard man is good to find."  
  
"We saw you with less on earlier, Sweet-cheeks. Why don't you give us another show?" one of the women suggested.  
  
Bulma saw red and heat puffed from her nostrils. "GET AWAY FROM HIM YA VULTURES! His ass is mine! He's all mine!" She snapped her towel about, effectively driving them away. With her gear neatly stowed, she grabbed Vegeta's free arm (the other one had clutched itself to his left butt- cheek) and pulled him toward her car.  
  
Vegeta offered no resistance. He was still dazed thinking about a certain blue-haired woman biting him there -- on the beach!  
  
%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	7. Reflections of a Saiyan

"Mornin', Vegeta." Bulma, still in her pajamas, staggered over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup of the hot liquid. She obviously had not slept well, as evidenced by the frazzled curls and dark circles under her eyes. "I had a rough night. Never read horror stories before going to bed."  
  
Vegeta turned his attention toward her. He had not seen his housemate since arriving home from the beach trip. The Saiyan had purposely avoided her to sort out his own thoughts on the incident. Indeed, her actions did shock him; but much to his consternation, he discovered that he more than enjoyed it. The fact that SHE did it actually excited him.  
  
She sat down across from him, and Vegeta eyed her carefully.  
  
"What are you staring at, Vegeta? Do I have something on my face?"  
  
"You appear completely disheveled, yet you painted your lips. I find that unusual for one as vain as you."  
  
"I'm not wearing lipstick. It must be your blood from yesterday," she joked in her half-stupor.  
  
Vegeta stiffened. He leaned forward and sniffed. He smelled blood, his blood. Extending a thumb, he wiped it across her ruby lips. The color remained. He then licked his thumb and drew it heavily across her lips until they stretched almost off of her face. Still, the color remained.  
  
Bulma licked her lips and tasted his saliva.  
  
In an instant, Vegeta had her in a half-nelson and dragged her stumbling backwards to the sink. Bulma's eyes widened as she saw the steel wool descending toward her face.  
  
"VEGETA! Stop it!"  
  
He blinked down at the Woman he now had cradled in his arms. His focus shifted to the scouring pad poised millimeters above her lips.  
  
"Put the steel wool in the sink," Bulma said slowly.  
  
Vegeta dropped the pad in the sink. Bulma looked up at the Saiyan who was still holding her. He made no effort to move.  
  
"Are ya gonna kiss me or what?" she asked.  
  
"...Or...what," he mumbled.  
  
Bulma grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled herself upright. She did not trust this Saiyan to be so courteous as to set her up on her feet. Knowing him, he would likely drop her on her rear.  
  
As soon as Bulma removed herself from his arms, Vegeta quickly exited the kitchen. She shrugged.  
  
The genius accepted her impulsive nature. She had done outrageous things before and knew that history would repeat itself -- hopefully not too often. Compared with showing Roshi her panties to get his dragonball, biting a sexy prince's derriere in public was almost standard Bulma behavior. She had no doubt that the beach bimbos would have done the same thing in the same situation. Add to that the bonus of Vegeta's stunned reaction, she congratulated herself. Very seldom did the arrogant Saiyan display any emotion other than anger.  
  
Bulma snorted in derision remembering how the women flirted with Vegeta. How rude to ignore her, who was only a mere meter away. For all they knew, she could have been his girlfriend. The sluts.  
  
Bulma watched the Saiyan prince through the window and licked her lips again. She had gotten more than a taste of him and rather liked it. Her original plan was only to pretend to lick his blood and ruffle him in retaliation for the embarrassing situation with the Sons. But the opportunity to have a prince's blood on her lips was too erotic to resist. Those sultry vampire novels fueled quite an imagination for the genius.  
  
Vegeta saw the Woman observing him. Her crimson lips slowly stretched into a wide grin. He quickly turned away.  
  
He paced about in the gravity chamber. The Woman may not have known what she did, but he had an idea. He scrolled through his memories. "Saiyans get stronger after each injury... Radditz has a brother... Saiyans mate for life... Saiyans bite to..." He concentrated further and wished that he had paid more attention to Nappa. However, at the time, he was a mere child intent only on gaining brute strength and power. He also had a child's fleeting attention span.  
  
Nappa's voice came back to him. "Saiyans bite to... complete...union...dominant...LORD VEGETA, PLEASE PAY ATTENTION!...some instances...female's lips turn red from her lover's blood to signify that she is taken." He nearly ruptured a vein recalling that entire sentence.  
  
Nappa's voice continued, "...lifetime...do not ever...LORD VEGETA, PLEASE! THIS IS IMPORTANT!"  
  
Vegeta shook his head. His memory must be flawed. After all, Nappa was yelling at his prince.  
  
%%%%%%% Thanks for the reviews! 


	8. Don't Ask

Finishing with his morning warm-ups, Vegeta walked outside to begin his meditation. He found Yamcha training in the yard, but ignored the human. Puar hovered near her best friend.  
  
As he passed by the two guests, Bulma appeared with glasses of lemonade and offered the beverage to all of them. "Vegeta, why don't you train with Yamcha?"  
  
"Phbbtt!" The human fighter gave Puar her second shower of the morning. "What?!" he gasped and continued coughing up the rest of his lemonade.  
  
"Exactly, Woman. Are you daft? I would annihilate the weakling."  
  
"Oh, come now Vegeta. The gravity simulator and robots are great for increasing strength, but you need to keep up with strategy. Goku, Piccolo and Gohan are fine, but you need more variety. Each fighter thinks differently, utilizes different tactics. Who better to add to your regimen than an ex-desert bandit?"  
  
Yamcha vigorously scrubbed Puar in his gi, fluffing her up quite nicely. She retained that lemony fresh scent.  
  
"Bulma, you don't know what you're saying."  
  
"I will not lower myself to spar with such a pathetic warrior."  
  
"Okay, I understand, Vegeta." The Woman's condescending tone grated the royal Saiyan's nerves. "Even you don't have the skills to train Yamcha and make him a great fighter."  
  
"Hey! That's harsh, Bulma," Yamcha pouted.  
  
"Woman, when I am through training that loser, he will be the strongest human on Earth."  
  
"Great! When will you two start?"  
  
Yamcha's jaw met the ground. Vegeta's entire face clenched. Enamel cracked as his teeth ground together.  
  
"We start now," the Saiyan growled through tight lips.  
  
Yamcha gulped. "Uh, Vegeta, since you are a Saiyan, and a very powerful one, we'd better set up some ground rules."  
  
"Fine. What are they, Weakling?"  
  
"You don't use your full strength."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"How about just using one side of your body when we spar?"  
  
"Reasonable enough, Weakling. And my only rule is that you tell no one of our training together."  
  
Yamcha agreed.  
  
Vegeta commenced with lesson one. "First, we must prepare psychologically to be attuned with the physical. Thought and action should merge and be instantaneous."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Vegeta sighed. "We do mental preparations."  
  
"Oh." Yamcha's face brightened. "I should be good at this. My grandfather was a mental patient. My father was a mental patient. Now it's my turn!"  
  
Bulma and Vegeta sweat dropped. The alien prince wondered how this scheming wench could have so easily tricked him.  
  
"I was joking," Yamcha chuckled.  
  
The other two seemed unconvinced. The human's past did include being a lone desert bandit whose sole companion for many years was a flying, shrill- voiced blue cat who called him "Master." And undoubtedly, his former fear of women was the result of some trauma. Perhaps the shape-shifting feline had a dark side.  
  
The two warriors spent the morning meditating and the rest of the day sparring. Vegeta had to grudgingly admit that Yamcha proved a better adversary than expected. The former outlaw knew many tricks from his youthful career of robbing people.  
  
Yamcha, in turn, gained a new respect for the Saiyan. Vegeta not only possessed brute strength, but he was also a master strategist, able to anticipate many of the Earthling's moves.  
  
"Guys! Hey, Guys! It's dinner time!" Bulma shouted out to them.  
  
"Woman, would you quit with the squawking!" Vegeta shouted back.  
  
In that one brief instance, Yamcha landed a solid round-house kick straight at the prince's face. Vegeta flew back and stopped himself in mid-air. Not being at full power, the kick had actually rattled his brain. Murder burned in his eyes as he charged.  
  
"Eep!" Yamcha was no fool. He flew at full speed and landed behind Bulma. If memory served him correctly, Bulma always stopped a charging Vegeta.  
  
"Vegeta, you stop it right there!"  
  
Vegeta abruptly halted centimeters from her upturned palm.  
  
"And why would you prevent me from finishing off the fool? He took advantage of my distraction."  
  
"Right. He was supposed to do that, remember? You should have known that an opponent would take advantage of any opening, however small. Lesson one, Vegeta: never underestimate anyone, even if they are less powerful."  
  
Vegeta scowled deeper. "All right, but next time, Weakling, you will not be so lucky."  
  
###########  
  
"Yeeeaaaaaaaaa...."  
  
A flash of blue and pink flew through his doorway and buried itself beneath his covers. The quaking bulk emitted chipmunk noises in time with its trembling. The Saiyan sat up and flipped back his blankets to reveal a pink cotton nightshirt surrounding a mass of blue curls.  
  
"Woman, get out of my bed," he commanded calmly.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
Vegeta was in an unusually diplomatic mood. "And what would be your reason for refusal?"  
  
She held up a thick novel.  
  
"What has that book got to do with you being in my bed?"  
  
"It's about a haunted hotel. Do you realize how large this place is? It's huge! I'm too scared to sleep alone. Just let me stay this one night."  
  
"No."  
  
"I'm not asking for much. This is a large bed. I'll stay on my side. I promise."  
  
"No."  
  
She gritted her teeth. "Vegeta, I asked nicely."  
  
His left cheek itched. He reached down to alleviate the discomfort. Vegeta opened his mouth to reply. "Fine." Huh?!  
  
He tried again. "Fine." What the hell?! "... I'll sleep in your room."  
  
"Then what's the point? No, I want you to stay here." She pressed a hand to his shoulder as he tried to rise.  
  
His dark eyes trailed a slow path from her face, down her arm to her hand, and returned the same way. Bulma found the gesture almost seductive. Vegeta frowned.  
  
"Just remain on your side," he grumbled. The Saiyan settled heavily into the bed, turning his back toward her.  
  
Bulma squealed in delight and snuggled under the sheets. "Thanks, Vegeta. You're a sweetie."  
  
"I am not a sweetie!"  
  
She fluffed and lifted the covers. "You're not naked." A hint of disappointment tinged her voice.  
  
His hand slammed the covers down between them. "Shut up and go to sleep!"  
  
She giggled, too busy getting comfortable to notice that the Saiyan lying next to her was scratching his pajama-clad rear.  
  
%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
That mental business came from the movie "They Call Me Bruce?" Ah, eighties humor. 


	9. Mom saw how lonely he was

Vegeta's internal clock tried to rouse him from his slumber. "Just five more minutes," he mumbled and gave his pillow a comforting squeeze.

"Okay," the billowy object sighed.

His eyelids snapped open. Capsule Corporation may be the center of technology, but the last time he checked, his pillow was a non-speaking inanimate object. Keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling, he carefully patted the object of his embrace. It was...lumpier. He gently ran his hand down its length. Its purr rumbled softly against his body. His other hand traveled up and became entangled in a mass of curls at his chest. The prince had long passed puberty and expected no further hair growth.

He uttered one word, "No."

"Mmm, yes," came a breathy response.

With his gaze still fixed on the ceiling, the Saiyan levitated with his prize and attempted to deposit her away from him. A slight draft apprised him that they were already over the edge of the bed. He floated back toward the center, over the space that she had not trespassed. Vegeta gently rolled his bedmate away from him and surreptitiously slid out from beneath the covers.

"So cold," Bulma whimpered and wrapped the sheets tighter about her body.

The Saiyan rushed through his morning routine. He was already more than five minutes late. No time to dwell on trivial matters. The defeat of the androids and Kakarott awaited him.

Bulma peered out the window and watched the two fighters power down. Yamcha went to one of the guest bathrooms to tend to his injuries. She saw Vegeta sitting on the curb with his head hanging down.

"He looks so lonely. I wonder if he's thinking about his past. He must be devastated knowing that he's one of the last of his kind."

"Bulma, phone call for you. Chi-Chi's on the line."

"Okay, Mom. I'll be right there." Bulma left to answer the phone.

Vegeta examined his right ankle. He had jarred it with an ill-aimed kick to the ex-bandit's head. Who knew that the human warrior had such a thick skull? The muscle and tendon felt tender, but there would be no lasting damage beyond the next few minutes. He relaxed and stretched out his leg, indifferent to the light traffic whizzing past him.

The stoic prince barely registered surprise when a pink honey-ham delivery van bumped against his foot. Only the panicked, high-pitched wail emanating from the vehicle caught his attention. Vegeta watched with mild amusement as the vehicle fishtailed before careening into the building across the street. Concrete debris, glass, and honey-hams littered the area on impact.

The young driver crawled dazedly out the door of his crumpled van and plopped on the ground. Curious onlookers immediately gathered about the crash site. The more enterprising ran off with a ham or two.

The Saiyan observed the scene with interest. Hearing opportunity hum around the corner, he casually re-extended his foot into the road.

"HOLY MIGHTY LORD...!" Prayers continued to spill from the car as it veered wildly back and forth. The terrified motorist tried unsuccessfully to maintain all four wheels on the pavement. People screamed and frantically scurried out of the path of the runaway vehicle. The driver managed to escape his car moments before it slammed directly into the pink van. Both vehicles burst into flames. The scent of roasting honey-glazed hams filled the air.

Both drivers stared dumbfounded at the scene. Frustration between the two led to heated words. Finger-poking quickly escalated into fisticuffs. A free-for-all erupted as the crowd became caught up in mob mentality. Fists, feet, and hams flew in all directions.

Tears streamed down the mighty Saiyan's face as he shook with laughter. "Humans, always so entertaining."

Bulma finished her phone conversation with Chi-Chi and returned to her position by the window. She noticed the prince's trembling shoulders and the trail of tears from his eyes. "I didn't know Vegeta could be so sensitive. He's crying."

Seeing him so despondent, she could no longer deny that her attraction for the Saiyan ran deeper than just the physical. The ever-dramatic Bulma Briefs clasped her hands together, stared at the sky, and announced aloud to no one in particular, "Vegeta, I care for you and will ease your loneliness. As Kami is my witness, I do love you." She thought about her proclamation. "Conditionally, of course." The technological genius sniffled and dabbed at an imaginary tear.

Vegeta wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and entered the house. Bulma ran away, afraid of offending him if he knew that she had seen him in a tender moment. He found her in the living room sitting on the couch.

"Hey, Vegeta. Chi-Chi just called and she wants to have a get-together. I think that would be fun. We're going to have a bar-b-que in a few days."

The prince spared her a glance and left.

She heaved a sigh. How could she have fallen in love with such a distant creature? Well tripped and stumbled into love, but the destination was the same.

Dark Dragon: I was wondering when someone would ask about that blue cat. The Rabbit Gang called Puar a "she/her." And, well, who else would date Oolong?

Thanks for the reviews!


	10. Redundancy Again

%%%%%%%  
  
Vegeta entered his room and found a pajama-clad Bulma already making herself comfortable in his bed.  
  
"Woman, you said that you would share my bed for only one night and that was last night. Leave."  
  
"I haven't finished this book, yet, and it's too good to put down. Besides, you should be honored. Not every man can say that he sleeps with a beautiful woman."  
  
"And not every man can say that he has a loud-mouthed wench in his bed."  
  
"Goku can," Bulma quipped and raised a hand to hide her snicker.  
  
Whether the left corner of Vegeta's mouth lifted into a sneer or smile, Bulma could not tell.  
  
"You have no good reason to get rid of me, Vegeta."  
  
"I do not need a reason. I do not want you in my bed. Leave before I lose my patience and kill you."  
  
"You wouldn't kill me. I don't know why. Maybe you know that life would be too boring without me. Or maybe you like me and just haven't realized it, yet." She gave him a smug smile.  
  
"I highly doubt that," he snorted.  
  
"Another thing. This isn't your bed. It's mine. I bought it."  
  
"You gave it to me to use; therefore, it is mine."  
  
"No, I let you borrow it while you're a guest here. As a guest, you have certain privileges, which are temporary and subject to my terms, as these are my properties. If anything, you need my permission to bed here. And I have been gracious enough to allow you to do it. And forget about the one in my room. I've already encapsulated that bed. The only other one is in my parents' room. Now, if you like, you can sleep on the floor, but I assure you, the bed is much more comfortable."  
  
Vegeta blinked. He was tired. At this point, he needed sleep more than the Woman needed a good thrashing. He barely followed her speech. The gist of his understanding was old man's bed, floor, or her bed. No contest.  
  
During his stay, the Saiyan prince had since grown accustomed to the simple luxuries that Capsule Corp. afforded him, and he was loath to relinquish them. Torturing his housemate would have to wait until his mind became clearer. Scowling at her, he gathered his clothes and went to the adjoining bathroom to shower.  
  
He toweled off and noticed the scar. "Odd," he thought. He examined the Woman's bite mark more closely and pinched it. "Her saliva must have some factor in it to mar a Saiyan's skin. An injury this minor should not leave a scar." He felt Nappa's thick knuckles rapping at his skull and batted them away.  
  
Bulma was still reading when he climbed into bed. "You're wearing boxer's? So, only a thin layer of silk separates us?" She lifted the covers. "I've seen men in boxers before. How come you're not all loose in there?"  
  
Déjà vu: Vegeta slammed the covers down between them. "Shut up and go to sleep."  
  
"Just asking. Are you controlling it somehow," she persisted wondering what other talents this Saiyan possessed.  
  
Vegeta grimaced. At this rate, sleep would just be a dream, a dream he could never have if his bedmate kept up her prattling. "I wear briefs underneath them."  
  
"You wear briefs AND boxers? That's redundant. It should be one or the other. You should correct that." She snapped her mouth shut and stared at the wall, keeping her expression blank.  
  
The Saiyan appeared not have noticed the last remark.  
  
"The combination provides me with perfect support and ventilation. And you are one to talk. Is not your name underwear underwear?"  
  
"Hmmpf. A lot you know. It's women's underwear short underwear."  
  
"Idiot." He rolled his eyes and settled into his pillow.  
  
######  
  
Vegeta felt wetness on his neck. "Woman, wake up. Woman," he shook his bedmate. He wanted her attention for his next comment.  
  
"Huh, wha? What time is it, Vegeta?"  
  
"It is time that you stopped drenching me with your saliva."  
  
"Sluuurrrp." Bulma wiped at the corner of her mouth. "Sorry. Hand me a tissue will you?"  
  
Vegeta frowned at her reaction, or rather, lack of one. "Get it yourself. Slobbering on your guest does not embarrass you?"  
  
She yawned. "C'mon, I bit your bare ass. This is little stuff."  
  
He should have known better.  
  
Bulma tried to reach across his body toward the tissues. Finding the box beyond her reach, she dragged and shimmied her way across the Saiyan's muscular torso, grunting in her efforts to bypass the masculine obstacle.  
  
During her laborious journey, Vegeta became acutely aware that only a thin layer of silk separated her body from his. He could feel the curves and soft ripple of her flesh, among other things. The primal noises she emitted further unsettled him. Vegeta gritted his teeth.  
  
Bulma finally reached the tissues and straddled herself across her bedmate's naked abdomen. She wiped her face clean, and feeling generous, leaned down to wipe the prince's neck.  
  
Vegeta noticed that one of her buttons had dislodged from its buttonhole. As her body descended toward his, one tantalizing breast escaped from its silken prison. The prince's eyes nearly popped from their sockets.  
  
"Woman..." his voice was a hoarse whisper. He tried to keep his eyes focused on her face, with miserable results.  
  
She wiped at his neck, the motion causing other parts to sway.  
  
"Woman..." he croaked. His eyes darted around wildly, always coming back to rest on the hypnotic pendulum. Vegeta had seen naked women and breasts before, but none this close nor enticing.  
  
Bulma sat upright. "What is it, Vegeta," she said in exasperation. The man beneath her kept repeating her name and not saying, or doing, anything else.  
  
She looked down at him and saw his shifting eyes. Bulma followed his gaze from her face to her breast to her arm to her...  
  
SMACK!!!  
  
The warrior never saw the hand coming. "What the hell?!" he roared.  
  
She snapped the two halves of her top closed. "How dare you try to undress me?" she cried.  
  
"I did no such thing. I was trying to get you to cover up. Why would I want to disrobe you?"  
  
"So, you think that I'm not good enough to strip?" SMACK!!!  
  
Damn, the Woman's hand moved faster than lightning to the stunned Saiyan.  
  
They continued bickering, with Bulma still atop the prince.  
  
"First, you become angered because you thought that I had tried to undress you. Now you feel insulted because I had no intention of doing such a thing? You really are crazy!" He was not in a princely mood.  
  
"Of course I must be crazy! I sleep with you and think that you undressed me only to find out that you didn't; and all you want is for me to cover up, even though I know that you like seeing my body. What kind of guy are you?"  
  
"Confused with a splitting headache," lamented his tortured brain.  
  
Bulma hopped off of her bedmate. With her hands still clutching her top together, she tossed her head in disdain, and stomped out of the room. At the door, she glanced back and saw a very bewildered Saiyan lying motionless in bed.  
  
"Thank the Kais. I guess all the males in the universe carry the female confusion gene. Well, at least he didn't notice my embarrassment."  
  
"Yes, the female species is an enigma." Vegeta remained in bed a few seconds longer, grateful for his eccentricities. He was certain that boxers alone could not have hidden his reaction. Fortunately, the briefs held his dignity together.  
  
  
  
Undeterred by the latest incident, Bulma remained in her bed, allowing the resident Saiyan prince to share it.  
  
Seeing the futility of ridding his hostess, not that he tried very hard, Vegeta accepted her presence as he did the sheets. He decided to bide his time and put her in her place when the world and Kakarrot bowed at his feet. For now, she could be his royal bed-warmer.  
  
%%%%%% Thanks for the reviews! 


	11. Vegeta the Bodiceripper

Thanks to all who knew Dr. Brief's cat's name!  
  
%%%%%%  
  
"Bulma, mail for you!" the older Briefs woman called out. "At least I think it's for you. It's addressed to a Mrs. Bulma Vegeta."  
  
"Bulma Vegeta?" Bulma took the large envelope from her mother. "Who would know that Vegeta lives here? Maybe I should wait to open it with him."  
  
RIIIPPPP  
  
"It's the picture of Vegeta and me at the Moonie Carnival. I had forgotten about that. We don't look half bad." She handed her mother the photo as she examined the envelope for more contents.  
  
There stood the two in white robes, Vegeta without his scowl, and Bulma, her usual attractive self, holding onto the Saiyan's arm. "It's beautiful, Honey. If I didn't know better, I would think that this is a marriage photograph."  
  
Mrs. Briefs repeated herself, but received no response. Opening her eyes, she saw a blank wall. Muffled babbling came from the floor. Her only child was sprawled face down. The blonde nudged her daughter with her big toe and tipped the body over with her foot.  
  
Except for one large, red welt on her forehead, Bulma appeared a paler shade of white. Remaining supine, she held up a piece of paper and read, her lips moving silently with the printed words. The genius pinched her cheek and felt nothing, her head apparently still numb from the impact with the floor. Since pinching had been ineffective, Bulma resorted to the next best thing. Raising her fist high in the air, she dropped it down with as much force as she could muster.  
  
"Yeowch!!" The woman's eyes popped wide as she clutched her injured foot and hopped around on one leg. "Bulma, Dear, that hurt!" her mother admonished.  
  
"So, it isn't a dream. I can't believe this. We're married," Bulma said quietly. She reread the certificate.  
  
"Oh, Bulma! That's wonderful. Why didn't you tell us?" Mrs. Briefs leaned against the wall and massaged her bruised foot.  
  
"I didn't know." Bulma gripped the back of the couch and hoisted herself up from the floor. "Vegeta, me, married. Married to each other."  
  
She gazed adoringly at the most wonderful photograph in the world before placing it and the certificate back into the envelope. The newlywed hugged the precious articles to her chest. "The man who shares a bed with me and I are married. The man I love and I are married," sang her giddy mind.  
  
"WE'RE MARRIED!" She grabbed her mother's hands and did the happy dance.  
  
"I'm so happy for you two. Since you've been sleeping together, this makes it all legitimate." Mrs. Briefs gave her daughter a knowing wink.  
  
...Sleeping together... Bulma's brows furrowed. The dancing slowed to stomps. True, the Saiyan did admit to finding her physically attractive, but as far as she knew, he showed no inclination to do anything other than share a bed and sleep. Even though she often woke snuggled against him, his contacts had been absolutely chaste. No touches to be misconstrued. Not even a glance. "I wonder if he had even thought about it," she mused aloud.  
  
"Thought about what, Dear?" her mother inquired.  
  
"Uh, nothing, Mom."  
  
"Well, Dear, I'll go congratulate Vegeta."  
  
Bulma lunged and grasped her mother about the ankles, unceremoniously introducing the blonde to the familiar floor. "Mom, wait. I don't think that Vegeta knows about this, and I'd like to be the one to tell him." She dusted off her mother's knees and face. "After all, I am his wife." She liked the sound of that. "And tell Dad to keep it a secret, too. We don't know what a surprised Saiyan is capable of doing." The genius pictured a pint-sized juggernaut hovering above the dust that was Capsule Corporation.  
  
"Whatever you want, Dear. I can't get over it. My baby and that nice Vegeta. Tee hee." Mrs. Briefs hobbled off to tell her husband the good news.  
  
"Married. I can't believe it," Bulma giggled.  
  
"Who's married?"  
  
"GAAHH! Vegeta!" She clutched her chest. Her heart thundered wildly. "Don't sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack."  
  
He noticed that the Woman had specks of dirt and a lump on her forehead. "I did not sneak. If you had not been sitting there daydreaming, then you would have heard me. Now what were you muttering about? Did one of those losers finally get a woman?"  
  
"No!" She thought quickly. "I just meant that my parents have been married for years, and I can't believe how long that it's lasted."  
  
As the Saiyan turned away, he caught Bulma chewing on her index finger, looking thoughtful.  
  
"I will be training the unworthy disciple today. You may do maintenance on the gravity pod."  
  
"Yes, Dear," she replied absently.  
  
Vegeta stopped in mid-step. "What did you say?"  
  
"I said, I hear!"  
  
Capsule Corp. rumbled from a small explosion, the source coming from her father's lab. "I guess Dad just found out about us."  
  
#########  
  
Night and morning passed uneventfully, as usual. Bulma nodded with conviction. She would find out today.  
  
She chased after him. "Vegeta, wait! I wrote a story and I need an honest opinion." She waved a sheaf of papers in front of him.  
  
"Go ask the old woman. I have no time for this."  
  
"Mom's already read it, but I don't trust her opinion. She likes everything about me. I need an intelligent, objective review."  
  
He took the papers from her hand.  
  
"Now, read it out loud. I want to hear how it sounds when someone else reads my work."  
  
The Saiyan prince began, his voice a confident monotone:  
  
'Her naked body glistened in the moonlight. He smiled in anticipation as she crawled toward him. Her flesh burned a slow, fiery path from his thighs to his chest as her body glided smoothly over his.  
  
She hovered above him and licked at his parted lips. He arched toward her, but she pulled away and pushed him down into the pillows. "Oh, no you don't," she teased. "I am the one in control tonight."'  
  
Vegeta broke from the story. "What is this?"  
  
"Don't stop, Vegeta. Your voice is so dramatic, so masculine."  
  
He continued:  
  
'Grabbing his wrists, she pinned them to the side. Her wetness brushed lightly against his length. He shivered from the contact and bucked up against her.  
  
"Not yet, my impatient one," she hissed. She dipped her torso, arcing her back and positioning her breasts above his face. The tantalizing nipples lightly caressed his lips. He closed his mouth around one delicious nub. Bloom's groan shattered his control. He roughly grabbed her hips and...'  
  
The Saiyan's voice faltered as his eyes further roamed the page. "Vega penetrated her WHAT?!"  
  
Bulma looked up. "Twat? I wouldn't be so vulgar as to write that." She grabbed the paper and scanned it. Breathing a sigh of relief, she shoved it back into his hand and up toward his face.  
  
His masticators stood out in ridges. His teeth could crack bones.  
  
The door opened. "Hi, Bulma. Hey, Vege--" The ex-bandit took in the scene. Before him stood the Saiyan prince, clutching some papers in a death grip and seeming about ready to explode. And there was his ex- girlfriend, bent over and eyeing the Saiyan's, ahem, nether region. Yamcha backed out and shut the door quietly. "I do not want to know."  
  
Vegeta lowered the papers and saw blue curls. "Woman, what are you looking at?"  
  
Bulma raised her eyes without moving the rest of her body. "Heh, heh. I was seeing if my story had any effect on you. You know, a good romance writer needs to know that she's doing it right. Heh, heh."  
  
He placed an index finger underneath her chin and raised her until they were eye to eye. "Woman, why did you have me read that?" His voice was dangerously calm.  
  
"Umm, I wanted to see if my story appeals to a male audience," she squeaked half-questioningly.  
  
The papers lit up like a Roman candle and the charred remains floated to the floor. "It does not."  
  
########  
  
Yamcha opened an eye to peek at his training partner. The two warriors should be meditating, but the Saiyan obviously had other things on his mind. Muttered curses and growls disrupted the supposed tranquility.  
  
Damn that Woman. The story, the Woman's eyes, her words all wreaked havoc with his concentration. He cursed again.  
  
"Weakling, we begin training now."  
  
Yamcha hesitated. "Uh, Vegeta, I really hurt myself the last time we sparred. Yeah. Why don't we skip today, and you go train in the gravity chamber. Yeah. I think that would be for the best."  
  
Vegeta scowled at him. "Fine, Weakling." The Saiyan gave Yamcha a shove as he walked past the human.  
  
The scarred warrior extricated himself from the Yamcha-shaped hole in the building's wall. Thankful that nothing was broken, he began his kata. "Man, what a jerk!" Puar nodded in agreement.  
  
The mighty Saiyan flipped, punched, tumbled. His graceful movements belied the jumbled thoughts in his mind. "Stupid Woman, having me read filth." He replayed the narrative and let loose a ki ball. "Such stupid, insipid names. Bloom and Vega. Blooming idiot. And Vega, pfft ... Blooma, Vega ...Bulma ... Vege...!"  
  
BOOM!!!!  
  
%%%%%% Yup, that was the famous explosion scene.  
  
Thanks for the reviews! 


	12. Smorgasbord

Yamcha set the injured warrior down on the bed. Although he was also concerned about Vegeta, Bulma's reaction to the accident made him wonder. He would speak to her parents about it later.  
  
Dr. Briefs administered first-aid to the Saiyan as best he knew. The scientist marveled at the resilience of the alien and tried to ease his daughter's worries. She, however, still decided to keep a bedside vigil by her Vegeta.  
  
He woke to find the Woman asleep at the desk. Why was she not in bed with him? He twisted to get a better look and felt a tug at his face. Lifting off the oxygen mask, Vegeta reached toward her. He pulled an object from the desk. The Woman had been reading another one of her silly vampire novels.  
  
######  
  
Two sets of eyes peered through the gravity simulator's window. They were impressed with the alien prince's skill and determination. "Well, I guess it's back to training, huh, Puar?"  
  
The floating feline giggled an assent.  
  
########  
  
Days he had been in the gravity simulator. Days she had been sleeping alone. Waiting until past midnight, she entered the gravity pod and nearly tripped over her sleeping Saiyan. Pulling out a capsule, Bulma depressed the button and tossed it into the middle of the room.  
  
The noise woke him. Peering through half-lidded eyes, he saw his former bedmate settling into a comfortable bed. Vegeta groggily staggered over toward her. Without a word, he kicked off his shoes and climbed in when she raised the covers in invitation.  
  
"You won't tell me to leave or sleep on the floor?"  
  
"I do have some class, Woman," he replied drowsily and immediately drifted off to sleep.  
  
Bulma snuggled up to her little prince, thankful that she had installed a shower in the gravity simulator and very thankful that the Saiyan used it. She could not be certain, but it definitely did seem that her husband almost liked her.  
  
"PACHOO! Pbbftt!"  
  
"Vegeta, that's disgusting! You nearly blew out my eardrums. And you got mucus all over my hair!"  
  
The Saiyan prince remained unapologetic. "Your hair would be clean if you could tame that mop. I do not relish waking up to that jungle of curls in my face."  
  
"Well, if my hair bothers you so much, then do something about it."  
  
The smell of burnt hair filled the room. Vegeta dropped the tendrils onto the floor.  
  
Silence...for half a second.  
  
"AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!! What have you done?! You sliced off my hair!" Bulma ran to the dark vid-com monitor to look at her reflection. She paused and tilted her head. "Actually, it doesn't look that bad. Maybe some trimming of the rough ends and I get a new do. Thanks, Vegeta." A chipper Bulma left to prepare breakfast.  
  
Vegeta stared after her in amazement. He almost pitied the poor soul destined to be claimed by the Woman. Almost.  
  
#######  
  
The genius ran around frantic. She spied her Saiyan walking into the kitchen. "Vegeta --"  
  
"No."  
  
"I haven't said anything, yet."  
  
"The answer will always be 'no'."  
  
"Vegeta," she began slowly, "I may not have enough food for the bar-b-que. I need you to go to the butcher's and get more meat."  
  
"And what binds your and the old people's hands?"  
  
"Dad is still at a budget meeting, Mom might come home with pastries, and I have to stay here to help Chi-Chi when she arrives."  
  
Vegeta's left eyebrow twitched. He did like meat.  
  
Bulma saw his hesitation. "Just consider the butcher as your lowly servant. He's done all the dirty work for you. Now you, your royal highness, just need to pick and choose your favorite cut of meat."  
  
Vegeta considered her words. "I will go to this butcher's."  
  
"Okay, his place is near the park. You'll like it. He has so many different varieties to choose from. And his meat is so fresh that they're practically kicking. Now, I think that we'll need a hundred more kilos. Don't worry about paying him. I'll call and tell him to expect you."  
  
Vegeta nodded and flew off.  
  
Half an hour later, the Sons arrived. Chi-Chi came early to help Bulma prepare the food. She complimented Bulma's new hair-do.  
  
Bulma patted her hair proudly. "Complements of Vegeta," she offered.  
  
Chi-Chi gave her a quizzical look, but asked no further. The psychotic little man had some strange talents.  
  
"Hey, where's Vegeta?" Goku asked.  
  
"He went to get some more food. I forgot and underestimated how much you fighters eat."  
  
Goku became dreamy and rubbed his tummy. He was always happy to hear that more food was coming. A familiar ki neared Capsule Corp. "Vegeta's back. I wonder what he brought?"  
  
He rushed out to the yard. "Wow! Vegeta, you have great taste!"  
  
Hearing Goku's excitement, the three ran out to see what Vegeta brought. Bulma's jaw hit the ground. Chi-Chi and Gohan remained unfazed.  
  
"Vegeta, when I said fresh, I didn't mean still breathing!"  
  
"I went to the butcher's as you asked, Woman. A hundred kilos would not have been enough for myself, Kakarrot, and his whelp. So I took the liberty of making it a few tons." He cocked his head toward two moose and an ostrich.  
  
Chi-Chi giggled. She was used to Goku and Gohan bringing home strange animals for dinner, but for Vegeta to do so was beyond funny.  
  
Bulma slapped her forehead and raked her fingers down her face. "Vegeta, describe this butcher shop."  
  
"It was as you said, Woman: A place that houses all the different varieties of meat."  
  
"Vegeta," her voice tight and slow, "Did you go to the West Capital City Animal Sanctuary?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Of course Vegeta would visit the zoo. It was a mere two blocks from the butcher shop. She should have known.  
  
"I did not like the selection at your butcher's," continued the prince. "The creatures at the sanctuary are better fed and larger. I ordered those pathetic servants to kill and gut the beasts, but the fools all fainted. You will have to do the tasks yourself."  
  
Like HFIL she would. Bulma clenched her fists and counted to ten slowly to herself. Blood would surely be seeping from her palms if she had long nails. She had a party to organize and losing her temper would not help. Furthermore, seeing Chi-Chi sniggering at her husband made her blood simmer.  
  
"Vegeta," she fought for control, "return these animals to the sanctuary. They are just too kicking fresh and preparation would take too long. Goku can help you."  
  
The now irate hostess whipped her head around the yard. "Goku! Goku get off that ostrich right now! You, too, Gohan!"  
  
Father and son steered the giant fowl to a stop in front of the women. They laughed gaily, having had a grand time riding the bird. "Did you want something, Bulma?"  
  
"Will you help Vegeta return these animals to the zoo? We'll stay here to get things ready."  
  
"Aww, nooo. We won't be eating them? Just look at the size of this guy's drumstick! What a bummer."  
  
The sensitive Gohan was secretly glad. He could not understand how his father could play with an animal one moment and then devour it the next.  
  
With the full-blooded Saiyans gone, Bulma and the remaining Sons decided to order pizzas and make a quick dash to the butcher's themselves. Chi-Chi, being a culinary master, assured her friend that she could whip up something quickly to satisfy all of the warriors' appetites. Goku's wife had a passion for cooking and often loved to show off her talent.  
  
The entire gang showed. They ate; they joked; they sparred; they noticed Yamcha's marked improvement. Yamcha smiled meekly and quietly accepted the compliments. Vegeta remained expressionless.  
  
"That was great, Bulma. We should do this again."  
  
"Sure. And maybe have a costume party."  
  
%%%%% 


	13. Dreams Do Come True

"Hey, Vegeta, since our bar-b-que was such a success, we'll be having another get-together. We're thinking of having a costume party."  
  
"Why should I be concerned?"  
  
"Well, I want to give you plenty of time to think about your costume. Maybe we'll give prizes for most original and all that."  
  
"You expect me to attend such foolish events? I do not think so." He headed for the kitchen and, hopefully, away from the Woman.  
  
Bulma followed him. "Vegeta, it'll be fun."  
  
"The Prince of All Saiyans does not have fun, unless it is at the expense of others."  
  
"Then you're in luck. Everyone makes a fool of themselves at costume parties. You can attend and make fun of them."  
  
"No."  
  
"Goku will be there. I bet he'll have a really silly getup."  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay, I'll ask you later, seeing how you're undecided."  
  
"Woman, are you stupid? What part of 'no' did you not comprehend? I will not change my mind."  
  
Bulma just smiled and left. Vegeta watched her with unease. He knew the Woman had a talent for tricking him into doing things. He opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. "I must be on my guard around that Woman. She is a crafty one."  
  
#####  
  
"Vegeta," she sang, "I have a present for you."  
  
He looked up from tying his shoelaces. "What is it?"  
  
She sat on the bed next to him and presented a sling-shot and a plastic triangle. "I noticed that you didn't wear this."  
  
"What is it," he repeated.  
  
"A jock-strap and cup. It's to protect your, umm, privates." She handed him the box and instructions. "Bad guys always fight dirty, you know. Or you might be victim to a freak accident."  
  
The prince skimmed the instructions and tossed the box into the wastebasket. "Woman, I do not need such attire. A true warrior may use tricks, but he would not lower himself to such standards." He rose to leave.  
  
"You never know, Vegeta. I'll leave it here for you, just in case you change your mind."  
  
He continued to walk away from her.  
  
Bulma picked up the plastic triangle and turned it over in her hands. "Funny how this looks just like an oxygen mask." She took a whiff. "Ewww, new plastic always smells so bad. Maybe if Vegeta wore it, it'd smell better."  
  
She heard a thump and looked up in time to see her Saiyan scrambling to his feet and dusting off his knees. He apparently had fallen.  
  
#####  
  
  
  
"Vegeta!" Bulma ran out to the two sparring warriors. She held up the athletic supporter. "Vegeta, you forgot to put this on!"  
  
The mighty Saiyan ignored her.  
  
"Fine! I'll give it to Yamcha!"  
  
Yamcha saw his chance. He aimed a left punch to the Saiyan's mid-section, doubling Vegeta over, and brought both hands in a fist down on the Saiyan's back. Vegeta hit the ground like a missile. The human fighter landed next to his friend.  
  
"Way to distract him, Bulma. What did you say, anyway?"  
  
Before she had a chance to reply, the Saiyan prince stalked over and snatched the elastic garment from her hand. Giving her a threatening glare, he stomped inside the house. Upon his return, Vegeta shot her one last dirty look before resuming his training with Yamcha.  
  
Bulma took a quick gander at her Saiyan. No tale-tell strap lines. Stubborn fool. He had better not ruin their chances for children.  
  
Thus emerged an undeclared challenge among the three. Bulma would aim to distract Vegeta. Vegeta would attempt to ignore her while sparring with Yamcha. Yamcha would try to survive since an angry Vegeta was a careless, dangerous Vegeta. The Saiyan would often forget the simple things, such as suppressing his strength and not killing.  
  
######  
  
She rolled atop her sleeping Saiyan. "Vegetaaaa," she crooned. "Vegetaaa, Prince of All Saiyaaanss."  
  
He grunted groggily.  
  
"What do you wish to be?"  
  
"Hmmm, king. I am the King of All Saiyans," muttered a sleeping prince.  
  
"Perfect. I'll have your costume ready at the local shop."  
  
Vegeta's eyes snapped open. Costume? His? He opened his mouth to negate the offer.  
  
Bulma placed a slender finger over his lips. "Sshh. Don't ruin the moment." She planted a soft, slow kiss on his lips.  
  
Moment? What moment? Is this a moment? His brain was still cloudy.  
  
"You'll pick up your costume tomorrow. Got that?"  
  
He nodded dumbly, his mind still stuck on the moment. His subconscious screamed that he had been tricked again, while his conscious just shrugged. At least he got a kiss from a gorgeous Woman.  
  
Bulma snuggled closer to her husband. She still had ten more minutes before he began his training.  
  
#####  
  
"You are going to be one awesome king," exclaimed the store clerk.  
  
"Of course, Boy. Go prepare my garments. I prefer a dark blue ensemble."  
  
The young man ran to the stockroom and returned bearing the clothes. "Sorry, Sir. We just have the white ones." He showed the outfit to the Saiyan prince. "Would you like to try it on to make sure it fits?"  
  
Vegeta eyed the clothes. "If the material stretches, then it should be fine."  
  
The store clerk bagged the costume and handed Vegeta an extra package. "Don't forget this. A true king always wears this."  
  
Vegeta looked at the item quizzically. "This is hair."  
  
"Yeah, it's for your face."  
  
"..."  
  
"Have you seen a king without that hair gracing his face?" the guy retorted.  
  
Vegeta thought of his father and the distinctive goatee. "Fine. Show me how to use it."  
  
The clerk stood back and admired his handiwork. "Man, you are going to be one cool king, especially with that hair of yours. You're an original. All you need to finish off the outfit are white boots. And the king likes to do martial arts."  
  
Vegeta smirked. He had the perfect boots and he definitely knew martial arts.  
  
"Man, you've even got the royal smirk down!"  
  
#####  
  
While Vegeta changed into his costume, Bulma greeted the guests.  
  
Goku arrived dressed as a horse. He set the head down in a corner. He wanted both hands free to eat. Chi-Chi covered her black locks with a blonde wig and wore a trenchcoat.  
  
Krillin had gotten a deal on costumes, so he, Gohan, and Yamcha dressed as nuns. Puar came as a pirate.  
  
Choutzu used foundation, wiped off six dots on his head and became Krillin. Tien donned a fedora and yellow suit a la Dick Tracy, Private Eye.  
  
Piccolo took off his shoulder guards, carried a big stick, and came as Kami.  
  
Oolong and Roshi, clad in pajamas, presented themselves as Hugh Hefner and his clone. They immediately settled in front of the television, searching for the adult channel.  
  
Yamcha approached Goku's wife. "Chi-Chi, I know what all the others are, but what are you supposed to be?"  
  
"Lady Godiva," came the prim answer.  
  
Yamcha eyed her up and down. "What are you wearing underneath that trenchcoat?" He pictured a very conservative Chi-Chi-type bathing suit or woolen underwear.  
  
"Body lotion."  
  
The human fell to his knees; his hands clasped together.  
  
Chi-Chi smiled down at him. "And the Lady rides her stallion tonight," she whispered seductively. Mrs. Son cinched her trenchcoat's belt tighter, accentuating a tiny waist, and left the stunned nun.  
  
Gohan, the quiet little boy, followed Yamcha's gaze toward the ceiling. He shrugged, seeing nothing of interest. The little boy gave his friend a pat on the head and walked back to mingle with the others. He munched contentedly on a cookie.  
  
"Bulma, your costume is so beautiful. You must be a princess," Chi-Chi gushed.  
  
"Thank you. Actually, I'm a queen. And Vegeta will attend as a king."  
  
"How unoriginal for that man. But I guess that you couldn't get him to be anything else."  
  
#####  
  
Pulling on his gold-tipped boots, he took one last look at his reflection. Staring back was the Prince of All Saiyans, dressed as The King. The white costume fit snuggly to his muscular body. The high collar of the top accentuated his newly adorned face. Vegeta decided to leave the lace top open, revealing a smooth, chiseled chest. The giant medallion at first confused him, but he found that it looped to the belt. He spread his arms to extend the short white cape.  
  
The Saiyan prince observed himself in the mirror. "Ridiculous. No wonder this planet's monarchy is virtually extinct. A white outfit with so many jewels would be a beacon calling to the enemy."  
  
######  
  
"Yo, Bro. What's wrong with Yamcha?" Krillin nodded toward the praying nun. "What'd your mom say to him," he asked Gohan.  
  
"Oh, Mom just told him that she'll be having sex with Dad tonight," came the matter-of-fact reply. "I hope I get a brother out of this."  
  
Krillin stared at the nine-year-old in dumb silence. Two minutes passed before curiosity reared its silly head. "Umm, Bro, where'd you learn about sex?" He almost felt guilty discussing such a topic in a religious costume.  
  
"Mom gave me a text about the birds and the bees, thinking that it was on pollination. It's about fertilization. Do you want a cookie, Krillin? I'm getting myself another one."  
  
Krillin shook his head. That boy was studying way too much.  
  
Bulma awaited her king anxiously. She wore a luxurious seventeenth century European costume made of blue velvet and white lace. She knew her Saiyan had a predilection for blue and had hoped to match him.  
  
The King entered the room. All eyes turned toward him and the talking ceased.  
  
Goku regained his voice first. "Wow, Vegeta! You look great! When Chi- Chi told me that you'd be dressing up as a king, I didn't expect this!"  
  
"Yeah, man," Krillin added. "Who'd ever guess Vegeta to be so hip!"  
  
"I dig those 'burns. And that buckle...whoa! Dig the boots, man," came Yamcha's two cents. Puar giggled.  
  
Tien, the greatest grudge holder of them all, and Chaotzu blinked in bewilderment. Piccolo, the wilderness dwelling Namek, remained apathetic to Vegeta's King. Roshi's and Oolong's eyes stayed glued to the television.  
  
Bulma took one look at her king and promptly fainted. No one noticed, being too busy taking in the sight of Vegeta and his costume.  
  
Goku galloped over and mock-sparred with Vegeta, forcing The King to counter with a few martial arts moves of his own.  
  
The blue-haired hostess regained consciousness and watched wide-eyed. Never in her wildest imaginations could she predict that her Saiyan prince would show up as The King... of Rock and Roll - Elvis.  
  
The party-goers ate, joked, and sparred. When it was over, they left for their respective homes. Bulma was a gracious hostess and saw her friends to the door. Vegeta never left the building. He lived at Capsule Corp.  
  
  
  
%%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Chi-Chi's costume came from "Happy Days." 


	14. It's All Goood

At least I didn't make Vegeta the self-proclaimed King of Pop, eh?  
  
%%%%%%%  
  
Vegeta's scrutiny grated on the former monk's nerves. Why was the Saiyan staring at him like that?  
  
"Eh, heh. What are you looking at, Vegeta?"  
  
The Saiyan prince remained silent and continued to stare. Krillin fidgeted nervously.  
  
"Tell me, Dome-head, why are you training with that Turtle Pervert?"  
  
"Master Roshi? He's been my teacher since I was a kid. He was the greatest martial artist on Earth."  
  
"'Was'?"  
  
"Yeah. Now he doesn't do much training."  
  
"And what does he do?" Vegeta knew the answer, but he enjoyed making the human uncomfortable.  
  
"He prefers to read, umm, magazines."  
  
The prince sneered at the mention of those magazines. The once greatest martial artist on Earth was now reduced to a leering dirty old man. How appropriate for this sniveling little planet.  
  
Silence continued. Krillin tapped his fingers together, wishing that Bulma would hurry with the capsule. One of his Kamehameha tidal waves had destroyed Kame House, and he was at Capsule Corp. to ask her for a new one.  
  
Moments later, his friend entered the room and gave him the capsule. "Do you need anything else, Krillin?"  
  
"No, that's it. Thanks, Bulma." The Earthling showed his impatience to leave.  
  
"Well, drop by anytime. Don't let Vegeta scare you. He always looks like that before a meal," the genius reassured her friend.  
  
Krillin waved and flew off.  
  
"Poor Krillin. It must be terrible to have Roshi and Oolong as his only companions. Turtle's okay, but he doesn't talk much. Well, they're still better than that bimbo Marron." Bulma scrunched up her face to show her distaste for the airhead.  
  
Not caring whether Vegeta was interested, she continued with an explanation. "Marron was Krillin's live-in girlfriend. He spent most of his time shopping with her instead of training. The stupid girl had to be taken to Kame's lookout so that Krillin could fight Garlic Junior. I'm glad that they broke up. He could do so much better."  
  
The Saiyan knew the tale of Garlic Junior's return. Dome-head, the Namek, and Kakarott's brat barely defeated the evil little alien. According to the brat, the deranged blue Namek-like creature and his henchmen gave the trio an extreme beating before being cast into The Dead Zone.  
  
Vegeta could excuse the third-class whelp's difficulty with Garlic Jr. on inexperience. And the Namek did have issues with his good and supposedly former evil side. But the bald one had no excuse, except that he was human. Still, Dome-head should have fared better if he had been training. Yet, he let the wiles of a woman distract him and became weak. Baldy may not be an evil lecherous monk, but he was certainly an insecure, easily distracted, ex-monk training with a lecherous old martial artist. The association was close enough for Vegeta. The Saiyan gave a contemptuous snort. Those martial arts books were correct. With his convoluted sense of logic, Vegeta came to one conclusion: sex was bad.  
  
#####  
  
The blue-haired beauty winked at the sexy nymph in the mirror. Her silk shift flowed temptingly over her luscious curves. Exiting the bathroom, the vixen sashayed toward their bed. Her husband was already beneath the covers.  
  
Vegeta cocked an eyebrow as he watched the Woman approach. He assessed that something must be wrong with her legs, as evidenced by the lop-sided gait.  
  
She knelt at the end of the bed and crawled slowly toward him. All assets were on full display for her prince. Vegeta remained motionless, taking in the entire sight. Bulma hovered over her Saiyan and graced him with a slow wet kiss. Tonight would be their wedding night.  
  
"Did you like that?" she breathed.  
  
Vegeta nodded once. Bulma knew that her prince was not much for lying. She giggled demurely and gave him another sensual kiss.  
  
The Saiyan slowly gave in to this hot new sensation. His arms encircled the goddess as she rested her body fully atop his. His lids drooped. In the dim light, his squinting eye caught a small glint off of the brass lamp. Brass. Chrome. Dome. Dome-head. Baldy. Sex is bad.  
  
Vegeta abruptly ended the kiss, pulled away from his bedmate, and gave her a rewarding pat on the head. "That'll do, Woman. That'll do." He gently rolled from underneath her and rested on his side.  
  
Bulma blinked...and blinked again at her husband's back. She did the only thing she could do. She crawled in next to her husband, turned off the lights, and cursed the thick sheets.  
  
#####  
  
The genius harrumphed as she followed her Vegeta outside. Last night proved that either her husband had excellent self-control, or she simply did not interest him. Unable to accept the latter, she formulated another possibility.  
  
Yamcha arrived for his sparring session. Bulma watched the two fighters walk a distance away and square off. She frowned.  
  
"Well, I hope you two have a good time." Addressing both combatants, she added, "And be sure to lick each other's asses."  
  
Vegeta scowled. "Woman, don't you mean 'kick?'"  
  
"No." She returned to the house, her hair swishing behind her.  
  
Both warriors shook their heads and shrugged. They resumed their fighting stances and charged. A loud whoosh rushed through the air as both ... completely missed each other. With mutual understanding, they powered down.  
  
Bulma walked passed one of the guest bathrooms and heard gargling interspersed with bits of conversation.  
  
"...how could she *gargle*...do better...Tien *gargle*...or Goku...*gargle*"  
  
Peeking through a crack in the door, she saw Yamcha spitting into the sink and Puar refilling his cup with Listerine.  
  
"Stupid Woman. Assuming that I may have an interest in that weakling. If I had those tendencies, I could certainly do better...only Kakaro...Argh, Ptui!"  
  
Bulma found her resident Saiyan in the kitchen, expectorating profusely into the sink.  
  
"I take it that you're not gay."  
  
Vegeta glared at her and spat again. "Woman, whenever you open your mouth, I am rarely happy."  
  
She smiled.  
  
%%%%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
I referenced "Babe." 


	15. Lots of Screaming

%%%%%

They had not seen each other for weeks. The awkwardness between them finally regressed to a bearable level. Now, they squared for battle. Vegeta eagerly awaited the challenge from the human. He had actually grown weary of the monotony from the gravity room. 

Yamcha noticed that Vegeta wore his Saiyan uniform. The tight outfit accentuated every muscle, every bulge, every…damn that Bulma and her mouth. The human took a moment to compose his thoughts.

The two warriors charged. A flurry of blows ensued. Yamcha threw a ki-blast toward the Saiyan. Vegeta sneered and prepared himself for the weak impact. However, using his beam manipulation technique, the wiley human zig-zagged the ki-dart around his opponent. The beam zoomed toward Vegeta from behind. It may not knock the Saiyan unconscious, but a direct hit to the head would certainly sting. 

Bulma heard the blasts from inside her house. Fearing that her home would become a mass of rubble, she hurried outside to shoo the combatants away from the vicinity.

Vegeta barely had time to dodge and bat the beam away. The energy bolt, gaining momentum from his defense, hurtled toward the unsuspecting female. 

Boom! A small dark crater formed where she had stood. Yamcha looked about wildly and breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his friend clamber out of the bushes. 

"Vegeta, you almost killed her!" screamed the human warrior.

"Killed who?" The Saiyan remained apathetic. He remembered that the human had a soft spot for squirrels and birds. The stupid vermin should know better than to scamper in the way of battling warriors. 

"Bulma!" 

"Bulma?" No one registered on his mind save himself and the weakling.

"Bulma, your wife!"

"Bulma? Bulma…my…wi…fe…"

Yamcha watched in fascination as Vegeta plummeted headfirst to earth. In later retellings of the story to his grandchildren, the human would swear that he saw the Prince of All Saiyans faint in mid-air. 

Another boom sent Bulma toppling back into the bushes. After disentangling herself from the branches, she noticed with indignation that the two oafs had created a larger hole in her yard. 

Yamcha knelt close to the edge and peered down with keen interest. The Saiyan remained sprawled at the bottom of a crater four Vegetas wide and five Vegetas deep.

Bulma stalked over toward Yamcha and prepared to give him a loud piece of her mind. What she saw made her stop in mid-finger wag. The genius knelt next to her friend.

"What happened Yamcha? Did you knock him out?" She was shocked and disappointed at the possibility.

"Er, I didn't even touch him."

"Then what happened?" Her curiosity piqued. She'd seen Vegeta suffer worse, and by Yamcha's calm demeanor, the situation must be minor.

"He just fell…hard."

"Yamchaaa," Bulma's voice held warning.

"I, uh, told him that you were his wife."

"YOU WHAT?"

"Hey, don't get mad at me. I thought that he knew."

"If he didn't know, how could you?"

"Remember when he blew up the gravity machine? I saw how worried you were and your mom told me why."

Of all the people to give Vegeta the news, fate would thrust in Yamcha, her ex-boyfriend. Bulma shook her head in disbelief. Some grand being had a strange sense of humor.

Vegeta smelled dirt. Opening his eyes, he saw only darkness. His eyelids scraped the loamy granules into a pile as he blinked. Was he dead? A sense of déjà vu hit him. Vegeta gathered on all fours and shook the cobwebs from his mind. A rock, recently imbedded in his forehead, plopped to the ground. He scanned the area -- bright skies, grass, trees, two questioning sets of eyes. The Saiyan blasted into the air.

"Yes! I have been revived!" He clenched his fists in determination. "Frieza, vengeance will be mine!"

"Frieza? He must have lost his memory! My poor Vegeta!" Bulma wrung her hands in dismay.

The Saiyan prince gazed down at the two figures. So, the Earthlings were still on Namek. He recognized the blue-haired woman. But could that be Kakkarrot's brat? The unstylish whelp still had the same bowl haircut. How long had he been dead for the half-breed to age so much? And where did he get that scar? Lifting each foot, the prince examined the soles of his boots for burs and rocks. He remembered standing on the brat's head after taking away his dragonball. 

"Did he step in something? I saw him fall headfirst," said Yamcha. "Bulma, when did you get a dog?" 

Bulma smacked the back of the ex-bandit's head. "This is all your fault, Yamcha! Vegeta," she called out to him tentatively, "Vegeta, are you all right?"

Satisfied that his boots were pristine, he acknowledged the Woman's presence. He frowned at her presumptuous familiarity. But was that concern in her voice? 

"Yamcha said that you hit the ground pretty hard."

Yamcha. Not Gohan. Yamcha.

The Saiyan sped toward the Earthlings. The two barely had time to run. His royal fingers wrapped around the human neck.

"Vegeta, stop it!" Bulma screamed. 

The prince's fingers tightened around the windpipe. 

"Tell me, is it true that we are wed?"

"…"

He shook the body mercilessly. "Tell me now! How did this happen!"

"Yes, yes, it's true, Vegeta. I didn't know it at the time, either. We were married during that moon festival!" She clawed at his hands ineffectively. "Vegeta, let go!"

"Y-e-a-h, Ve-ge-ta," rasped the human warrior. He tried to break free from the Saiyan's vise.

"Vegeta, let him go," Bulma said levelly.

The Saiyan prince loosened his grip slightly. Yamcha's face turned from blue to red. He gasped for breath.

"It's…her…fault…" Yamcha pointed an accusing finger at his ex-girlfriend. "Pun...ish...her."

Vegeta gave him another vigorous shake. "Fool, you expect me to harm my own wife?"

"WHAT?" rang a couple of human voices through the vastness of Capsule Corp.

Vegeta grimaced and made a mental note to work on impulse control.

The beauty tackled her husband, causing the prince to release his captive. Yamcha crumpled to the ground and heaved in precious breaths of air.

"You do like me! I knew it!"

The Saiyan was unsuccessful in escaping his Woman. Where did she get such strength?

"I never said that."

"I know, Dear. You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes." Bulma giggled like a schoolgirl. No amount of bleach could wipe off her grin.

"Your delusion warrants medication and prescription lenses." The Saiyan shoved off his bride and stalked inside the house.

Bulma skipped happily after her husband.

Yamcha rose from the ground. "Crazy little Vegeta," he muttered. He glared after the couple. "Crazier Bulma."

%%%%%

Thanks for the reviews!

Sweet, huh?


	16. A Touch of Bulma

Vegeta entered the darkened bedroom and found the Woman resting beneath the covers. Relieved at the prospect of not discussing their marriage, he settled into his side of the bed for some much-needed rest. Super Saiyan was still beyond his grasp, and he needed no distractions. At this rate, he may as well be as useless as Dome-head and let Kakarrot reap all the glory. He growled at the thought.  
  
Bulma snuggled into her husband, as was her habit during sleep. The mighty Saiyan's fine-tuned reflexes had him on his feet in an instant. He stared down at his bedmate, incredulous with her audacity.  
  
Bulma smiled languidly at her husband. "Surprise," she whispered.  
  
"Woman," his voice fought for control. "Where are your garments?" The warmth from her luscious curves lingered on his body. His bare chest flushed lightly from her heat.  
  
"Since we're married, we might as well do married things." Bulma propped herself on her elbow and raised the covers, giving the prince more than an eyeful. She patted the mattress invitingly.  
  
Vegeta looked around behind him and saw no one. Was the Woman serious? Her Cheshire smile made him suspicious. "What do you want?"  
  
"Why, you of course. You *are* my husband." She patted the bed again. "I want you, and whatever you can give me."  
  
Perhaps her words held another meaning, but Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, decided to address the obvious, at least to him. "That, Woman, may not be wise. Consider the mule and the liger."  
  
Bulma gave him a quizzical look. "What do sterile hybrids have to do with us?"  
  
Vegeta remained silent, confident in his wife's intelligence.  
  
"Vegeta! Do you mean to tell me that our children would be infertile? No grandchildren?"  
  
A slight raise of his eyebrows indicated an assent.  
  
"But, but Gohan," she stuttered.  
  
"What about that mop-top? Is he of procreating age, yet?"  
  
"That's sick, Vegeta. He's still a little boy." She dropped onto her back, letting her gaze shift to the ceiling. "I guess we won't know for awhile." This was an interesting predicament for her friend Chi-Chi.  
  
He tossed the Woman one of his t-shirts. She absent-mindedly slipped it on and scooted to her side of the bed. The Saiyan reclaimed his former position and settled in for slumber. A few "hmms" and "ohs" from his bedmate lulled him to sleep.  
  
######  
  
Another disappointing day passed. Vegeta was already in bed, cursing his failure at becoming the Legendary, when he heard the Woman enter the room. He turned his royal back to her to stave off any conversation.  
  
The sheets barely rustled as Vegeta did a replay of last night's dance. "Woman, why are you not clad? Did last night's conversation not convince you that this would be wrong?"  
  
"I've thought about it, and if our children can't reproduce, so what? We'll love them just the same. And with my genius, we may be able to make large strides in the field of reproduction in the future."  
  
"Your previous efforts in biology had only been to create laxatives," Vegeta haughtily reminded her.  
  
"So it has. But the future is a long way off. I may be successful yet." She snapped her fingers with confidence.  
  
His mind grasped at straws. He had no argument, save a thin one. "I will not have you. The Prince of All Saiyans does not take someone's seconds."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow as her mind took in the meaning. "You're concerned about my past with Yamcha?"  
  
The prince stood impassive.  
  
Bulma took the silence as a yes. "What he and I did together was in the past. It should have no bearing on us."  
  
"You and that weak human had a long history in my understanding. According to Earth customs you should have had relations. Your mode of dress also indicates that you like to solicit the prospect."  
  
"You didn't seem to have a problem with anything when you kissed me."  
  
"That was a momentary lapse of judgment in my weariness. I will not make the same mistake again."  
  
"You know, I should really be insulted. You led me on, and now you want to leave me."  
  
Vegeta smirked and steeled himself for a tirade.  
  
"But, it's admirable that you have such high standards. You've actually gained a notch in my book."  
  
He remained silent. Only the total whites surrounding his pupils showed his disbelief. Will she never let him sleep?  
  
"It might interest you, dear husband of mine, to know that I am chaste. Down to the hands." She spread her palms and wiggled the digits for him to see the truth in her statements.  
  
Vegeta's blood pressure rose. He could feel the heat rising . . . everywhere. "But the weakling ..."  
  
" . . . was respectful of my wishes. I'm an old-fashioned gal at heart and was saving myself for marriage. Now I'm married and in my thirties, which," she spoke the next part slowly for emphasis, "means that I am at my sexual peak." She reclined and beckoned to him with her hand. "It's all perfect for us, Vegeta."  
  
He reached toward her and dropped his hand next to her face. Grabbing his pillow, he abruptly turned and stalked out the door. The firm couch would be good for his back.  
  
Bulma shrugged and pulled the covers over her shoulders. "He'll be back."  
  
#####  
  
Her movements were hypnotic. The sway of her hips, the way she bent to serve him breakfast, the cleavage over his eggs had him enthralled. Her ruby lips pouted lusciously as she blew on his eggs to cool them. Breakfast had never tasted so delicious to the Saiyan prince.  
  
Vegeta gave her half-a-second's glance before turning away and leaving to train. Bulma watched her little Saiyan scratch his fine backside as he exited.  
  
His focus was elsewhere than on destroying the robots. Compounded with a restless night on the uncomfortably lonely couch, Vegeta's training was a disaster. To compensate, he remained in the gravity chamber past lunch and dinner. No bucket of bolts would defeat the Prince of All Saiyans in this timeline.  
  
He walked noiselessly into the bedroom and found the Woman sitting in bed. To his amazement, she was completely clothed in cotton pajamas. Finally, he could have a night of rest in his own comfortable bed. He fell asleep with thoughts of his hair flashing gold.  
  
Vegeta jerked awake and clumsily thudded to the floor. Both hands reached to quickly pull up his shorts.  
  
Bulma peered over the side of the bed and watched her Saiyan gather his dignity.  
  
"Woman, what were you doing to me?"  
  
She held up the tube of ointment. "Just taking care of my honey. You've been scratching your rear, so I was going to put medicine on it. Get back here and let me finish."  
  
He stood his ground. "No."  
  
"Vegeta," she left the bed and made her way toward him, "let me." Her statement held no room for argument.  
  
"No."  
  
She leaped at him. Taken unawares, the two tumbled into a heap. The mighty Saiyan found his wife to be unusually strong. He marveled that two missed meals could so severely deplete his strength. Perhaps she poisoned his eggs. Bulma elbowed his ribs and used her body to roll the small Saiyan onto his stomach. Vegeta saw carpet fibers and Nappa's laughing face. Tsk, tsk, clucked the bald goon.  
  
"Vegeta," Bulma said through gritted teeth, "my husband will not have scabies. Just let me rub this on you." Her knee dug into his kidney as she hooked two fingers underneath the elastic of his shorts.  
  
The struggle picked up in intensity. The greasy ointment squirted wildly. Vegeta finally managed to push his wife away. The Woman sat in front of him, smeared with ointment and disheveled. Vegeta found the sight quite . . . alluring. He shook his head to clear the image but found that it was not in his imagination.  
  
The prince stood up and glared down at his Woman. "The Prince of All Saiyans does not have scabies! You are the cause of my discomfort. Your bite makes me itch." He folded his arms in finality.  
  
Bulma knelt in front of him. "Really? Since that time from the beach? Let me see." She reached for the elusive waistband.  
  
Vegeta batted her hand away. "Enough. This needs to end."  
  
"What needs to end?"  
  
"This 'marriage.' You, Woman, are taking too many liberties."  
  
"I will not have a divorce on my records, Vegeta." She frowned at him.  
  
"You have no choice. I do not intend to honor this Earthly farce of a union." So saying, the Saiyan turned on his heels and headed for another shower.  
  
Bulma sat on the floor and thinned her lips. "So be it." She shook her fist at the bathroom door. "But you won't be rid of me that easily, my stubborn little Saiyan."  
  
%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Yes, Bulma is pure. I'm going by the Japanese standard that women should be virginal, yet outlandishly sexy. There's more to it, but I'm simplifying it here.  
  
Liger = lion (m) + tiger (f) 


	17. A Sad Day

The Saiyan prince reclined against the wall, impatient for the proceedings to begin. His Woman sat primly in front of the large oak desk.  
  
"Now, Mrs. Briefs, are you sure that you want to annul this marriage?" asked the dapper lawyer.  
  
Bulma nodded contemptuously. She was in a foul mood and did not trust herself to speak -- yet.  
  
"Well, there are terms for an annulment," he explained. "Let me get some background information. I need both of your addresses."  
  
Bulma gave the address to Capsule Corp.  
  
"And Mr. Vegeta, where do you live?"  
  
Vegeta grunted. "I reside with her."  
  
The lawyer nodded. It was not unusual for separating couples to still share the same residence.  
  
"Do you each have your own wing?" The question was a self-serving one. Bulma Briefs was one hot cookie, and she may be ready for a rebound, hopefully with the currently single attorney. He shuffled the papers importantly and slicked an eyebrow with a thumb.  
  
"No," Bulma replied. "We share a room."  
  
The lawyer's pen paused in mid-air. This was highly unusual. "But you do sleep in separate beds?" he asked almost hopefully.  
  
Vegeta lost his patience. "She sleeps in my bed," was the blunt response. These inane questions were taking up his precious training time.  
  
"I see." The attorney's heart sank. Damn. But he had to be a professional and earn his money. "Well, you can't get an annulment then, or a divorce for that matter. You have no real reason to dissolve this marriage. I doubt if the judge would grant it."  
  
Bulma let a small smile cross her face and nodded.  
  
The sociopathic Saiyan rapped the desk, causing the expensive piece to crumble. The human male screamed. Bulma remained silent. Apparently, the heiress was used to her husband's behavior.  
  
"What do you mean the marriage cannot be dissolved?" demanded the Saiyan. "I do not want to remain bound to her."  
  
"But sir, you obviously still like her," explained the rattled attorney.  
  
Vegeta growled. "I never said that."  
  
"You still sleep with her," persisted the professional.  
  
"What does my sharing a bed with her have anything to do with marriage?"  
  
Was this guy serious? "You have to show that this marriage was a mistake. That you can't get along." The attorney turned to Bulma. "Has he ever hurt you, ma'am?"  
  
Bulma shook her head.  
  
"See, there's absolutely no reason for this annulment."  
  
"I was tricked into the marriage. That is more than a mistake," asserted the mighty alien. Vegeta's patience was wearing as thin as a polyester/cotton t-shirt -- without the cotton.  
  
"But you're still co-habitating with your wife," whined the exasperated professional. Really, these muscle-types were the densest. Obviously, the steroids shrank more than their testes. Yet, they always managed to get the girl. Life could be so unfair.  
  
Bulma remained quiet, relishing the action.  
  
Vegeta grasped the lawyer by his collar. "I demand that you do whatever is necessary to end this marriage."  
  
The poor guy tried to extricate himself from the grip, but to no avail. "It's not a matter of what you must do, but what you've already done. Did you two ... uh ... you know ... " he tried to be descriptive with his hands.  
  
Bulma giggled in girlish embarrassment.  
  
Vegeta scowled at the crudeness of the act and shook the attorney violently. "If you are implying that we've f --"  
  
"Vegeta!" Bulma admonished.  
  
"...fornicated, then the answer is no." He gave a self-satisfied smirk.  
  
Bulma sighed in relief. Her crazy husband actually did have some class.  
  
Still bound in a grip of steel, the lawyer shook his head lamely. "No, no. It doesn't matter what you did before the marriage. That's moot. It's what you're doing now."  
  
"We do nothing now," growled the Saiyan.  
  
"But you sleep with her!" he cried and pointed a finger at the beauty. What normal heterosexual man would admit to doing nothing with the likes of Bulma Briefs?  
  
Bulma winked sexily at her husband and blew him a kiss.  
  
Vegeta's face colored. The trapped fellow could not discern whether his client's husband flushed from embarrassment or rage. A vigorous shake made him choose the latter.  
  
"What business is it of yours who shares my bed?" demanded the Saiyan prince.  
  
"It's the court's business. You can't get an annulment or divorce if you still do things like that," wheezed the man.  
  
"We do nothing," repeated the prince.  
  
"Riiight. You mean to tell me that you've never done it with her."  
  
Vegeta shook the lawyer again. "Do what? Do not speak in riddles, imbecile."  
  
"You know, you ... uh ... you ... see ... her ... naked ... "  
  
"Do not be vulgar." Vegeta smacked the man. "Of course I've seen her without clothes. She practically sleeps that way."  
  
"That's what I mean," wailed the swollen fellow. His face hurt. If it was possible, even his brain hurt. How dense was this guy? The lawyer had hoped that he would at least be an old, retired man when he suffered a brain infarct. Then it dawned on the educated fellow. "Sir, do you do anything besides sleep in that bed?"  
  
"The furniture is only good for rest."  
  
"Ah, so you've never seen ... or done ... or even ... " the lawyer leered at the lovely scientist and smacked his lips.  
  
Bulma cringed.  
  
Vegeta backhanded the lech, ensuring some dentist a good income. "If you are asking whether I've c --"  
  
"Vegeta!" His wife cut him off again.  
  
"... consummated the marriage, then the answer is no."  
  
"Vegeta, where did you learn these words? You're really odd."  
  
The mighty prince purposely ignored the question. No use revealing that he had to look the words up after reading the old woman's romance novels. He understood the words as actions, but anything else confounded him. The simple three-letter word gave him the most problems. Sex gave him orgasm. Orgasm gave him coitus. Coitus resulted in copulate, which brought him back to sex. And how the hell do you "make" love? Nouns should be concrete, not abstract.  
  
The beleaguered fellow shook himself out of his pain-induced haze and pounced on an opening from this crazy situation. "If that's the case, then you can annul the marriage."  
  
Vegeta relinquished his grip and dropped the man. The attorney crumpled to the ground and sighed in relief. The blood had begun to pool in his feet, causing them to swell. He hoped that his fine Italian leather shoes had not stretched too much. Getting new teeth was cheap; new designer shoes were another matter.  
  
"Then get the procedure over with quickly," commanded the Saiyan.  
  
Bulma frowned at her husband's revelation. What would people think if a beauty such as she could not even seduce a man -- even a strange man who used words such as fornicate and consummate. Hmmph!  
  
"I'll have to fill out some paperwork, sir. Then I'll send it through the mail. All you two have to do is sign it and send it back. You should receive the documents in about two months."  
  
Normally, there was more involved with the filing process, but the attorney hoped to be rid of this violent man as quickly as possible.  
  
Two months to remain married to the Woman. "Do not delay," hissed the peeved Saiyan.  
  
The beaten fellow gulped, wiped at his brow, and nodded dumbly. No wonder the freak was so grumpy and violent. He wasn't getting any.  
  
Bulma leaned down and smacked the mishapen face. "Thanks for nothing," she sneered.  
  
%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Hello, again! Lots o' things: Ff.net was down. Ff.net came back, but monitor crapped out. Bought new monitor, but computer wouldn't cooperate. Uploaded new software and had to work the bugs out of it. And here I am. So I'll be back to reading and reviewing starting now. 


	18. What Did He Say?

Life with the Woman remained the same. His soon-to-be-ex seemingly refused to acknowledge their impending annulment. She still slept in his bed, still snuggled up to him each night.  
  
Exasperated with her persistence, he finally asked the one question. "Why are you so insistent on making this farce work?"  
  
Bulma fluffed her pillows and wiggled her shoulders into a comfortable position. "I love you," was her simple reply. She folded her hands on her chest and sighed in contentment.  
  
Vegeta raised himself into a sitting position. He looked down at his wife. "Why?"  
  
She shrugged. "Any number of things. At first, I felt sorry for you. But over time, that changed. Mainly, you're not pretentious. You're comfortable with yourself and don't care what others think."  
  
"I am evil."  
  
"No, not evil. Psychotically misguided, perhaps, but not evil. You haven't hurt my family or me. You even train with Yamcha." Bulma wrapped an arm around her Saiyan's waist.  
  
Vegeta winced at the last statement. "I have murdered millions."  
  
"Yes, and I'll never be comfortable with that. But you had to do it. You were under Frieza's orders."  
  
"I could have refused."  
  
"Then what would have happened?"  
  
"He would have killed me."  
  
"There you go. As young as you were, how could you possibly choose between your own life and others'? If Frieza was my surrogate father, I'd turn out the same way."  
  
His Woman seemed to have an answer for everything. She admired his drive to be the best. His superiority complex amused her. His gentleness amazed her.  
  
"Gentleness?!" In all his years as a galactic exterminator, Vegeta never once considered himself gentle.  
  
"You've never raised a finger to me, Vegeta. You've never even accidentally hurt me. We still share the same bed. You know you like me." Bulma pulled the little Saiyan down next to her.  
  
"I do not like you," he retorted.  
  
"So you say." She rearranged the blankets to cover them. "So you say," she repeated and gave her husband a comforting squeeze.  
  
His wife's confidence made him uneasy. Vegeta scowled. She will learn soon enough that he did not like her.  
  
#####  
  
During maintenance check of the gravity pod, Vegeta spied the good doctor's cigarette pack sitting on the toolbox. Curious as to its appeal, the Saiyan pulled one from the pack and sniffed it.  
  
"Vegeta, what do you think you're doing," called an all too familiar female voice. "Don't even think about lighting up."  
  
The prince needed no more provocation. He placed the cigarette between his lips and lit the end with a tiny ki-beam.  
  
"Vegeta, don't you know that smoking is bad for you? You're a warrior. Warriors need healthy lungs." Bulma tried to grab at the cigarette. He brushed her hand aside.  
  
"I am a super elite Saiyan. Do you think that measly leaf shavings could possibly harm me?" He nodded toward the busy doctor. "The old man smokes." The Saiyan prince took a drag and exhaled into his Woman's face. Fortunately, she was too busy with her racking coughs to notice the Saiyan doing the same.  
  
"Daddy isn't a fighter," reasoned the genius. She made another grab at the offending stick.  
  
Vegeta snapped at her hand.  
  
"Ouch! You bit me. I can't believe that you bit me!" She held up her finger for him to see the wound. "Daddy, look what Vegeta did," she tattled.  
  
Dr. Briefs glanced at his daughter, and without a word, returned his attention to the gravity pod. Lovers' squabbles never interested him.  
  
"It's bleeding. That's not nice, Vegeta."  
  
The Saiyan licked his lips and grinned as he watched the Woman recoil in disgust.  
  
Bulma shuddered in revulsion. "That's just plain nasty."  
  
The Saiyan licked at his lips again, more than satisfied with her reaction. "Does it bother you that I enjoy the taste of your blood?"  
  
"Actually, no. It's just that you don't know where my finger's been. I just cleaned Tama's litter box, and you'd better hope that I don't get toxoplasmosis!"  
  
Dr. Brief's cat meowed upon hearing its name.  
  
The mighty warrior sputtered and spat . and spat again. He shot his wife a murderous glare before quickly stalking into the house. Hopefully, she had bought the economy size anti-bacterial mouthwash.  
  
"Just stay away from me when you smoke," Bulma called after him. "I don't want to get sick from second-hand smoke, you know. I'm still human."  
  
Vegeta growled in response. She will know that he did not like her.  
  
As his wife continued to harp on the dangers of smoking, Vegeta found himself lighting up just to spite her. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that the cigarettes did indeed affect his health. As a Saiyan, his heightened biological processes accelerated the deleterious effects of the cancer sticks. Each time the warrior powered up, the damage to his lungs worsened. His breathing became labored after a few short hours of training. Also, the weakling Yamcha almost, almost beat him during a spar. Vegeta weighed the risks and decided to quit smoking.  
  
Bulma congratulated him on kicking the habit and even celebrated the innocuous event by purchasing new lingerie. The Saiyan prince had not realized how much damage his lungs had attained until he nearly coughed one up seeing his wife in her new outfit. The condition was so severe that he almost had a nosebleed.  
  
#####  
  
The genius bided her time in pursuing her husband. As much as the Vegeta seemed to want the annulment, he showed no inclination to discourage her actions. She continued her role as his wife as long as possible, hopeful that her Saiyan would eventually come to his senses. After all, who on Earth could possibly be a better match for the anti-social, ego-consumed Saiyan than the beautiful genius Bulma Briefs? Absolutely no one if she could help it.  
  
Bulma crawled into bed and settled next to her husband.  
  
"Vegeta, what's involved in a Saiyan marriage?"  
  
"Why would you want to know?" The Saiyan was exhausted and had hoped to get an early start. Those foul cigarettes had actually set his training back a few days.  
  
"Oh, no reason," replied his bedmate. "I'm just curious. Tell me. It'll be like a bedtime story to get me to sleep."  
  
Knowing how annoyingly persistent his Woman could be, Vegeta relented. "Saiyans choose their mates and have a bonding ceremony."  
  
"Bonding?"  
  
"That would be the closest Earth term. It entails two beings bound together until death."  
  
"That's so romantic," gushed his companion. "What happens during the ceremony?"  
  
"In the presence of witnesses, the couples bite each other, usually on the wrist or any area they choose. The males initiate, since they are more often the dominant of the two. The bites should draw blood."  
  
"Blood and biting - that's brutal. Why bite?"  
  
"I do not know," replied the Saiyan. "It had been so since primitive times and never changed. "  
  
"Then what," asked his bedmate. She snuggled closer to her husband.  
  
"They taste each other's blood."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Vegeta shrugged. "Nappa mentioned something about symbolizing the sharing of souls." As the conversation progressed, the fragmented memories of Nappa's lessons began to take shape. The Saiyan prince was surprised to discover that he had retained more than he thought. Apparently, Nappa's constant yammering did prove effective. Of course, the Prince of All Saiyans did have superior intellect and large frontal lobes.  
  
"What about that business about not being able to have more than one mate?" This concept appealed greatly to the genius.  
  
"Saiyan women were completely possessive. Through many millennia, they were able to naturally select those males with a particular gene. Over time, the gene's phenotype became magnified with each breeding."  
  
"Breeding, mates -- sounds so animalistic, yet somehow appropriate for your people." Bulma yawned. "What would happen if one of the partners strayed?"  
  
"Women were never known to leave their partners. They were extremely loyal. However, a tiny fraction of the males have tried to acquire new mates." Vegeta snickered. He could not fathom why any male would want more than one female. His Woman was a handful already. He gazed down and appraised his wife. No, she was more than a handful.  
  
"So, what happened to them?" Bulma snapped her fingers in front of her husband's face. Evidently, he had become lost in his own thoughts.  
  
Vegeta blinked and resumed his answer. "If they tried to copulate with another female, then the price was their hair."  
  
"Is that what happened to Nappa?"  
  
Vegeta nodded. "The oaf had thought that the conditions were a myth." Vegeta heard Nappa's voice again: "Don't ever try to have two females ... my Prince, please pay attention. This is important!"  
  
"At least he still had his eyebrows. But that mustache did nothing for him." Bulma tried to imagine Vegeta with a mustache and decided that his lips were best left uncovered.  
  
"The fool tried to compensate as best he could." Vegeta grimaced. "No Saiyan would ever wish to lose his hair. It is his pride, which distinguishes him as belonging to the most powerful warrior race in the universe."  
  
"I like your hair, Vegeta." Bulma ran a hand through her husband's locks. "But how can you tell if the couple is married? Do you have rings, bracelets, tattoos?"  
  
"Sometimes the female's lips remain crimson with her partner's blood to signify that she is taken. The blood eventually wears away, but by then, most Saiyans would already know her status."  
  
"And the males?"  
  
"Males and females purposely scar themselves at the bite. They make the wound round so as not to be confused with war scars."  
  
Bulma gave her Saiyan a squeeze and giggled. "I guess we're even married by Saiyan standards, my hubby."  
  
"What foolishness are you spouting?"  
  
"I've bitten you. You bit me. You're not healing because you keep scratching your rear." His wife tore off the bandage from her index finger and scratched at the wound. "And the clincher: I bit first, so *I* am the dominant one." The chortles became louder. "You know that you want me; you might as well give in." Her disturbing laughter resonated against his chest as she lulled herself to sleep.  
  
His heart rate increased, and he felt a tightening in his chest. Damn those cigarettes. They really were bad him.  
  
#####  
  
Vegeta sat at the table, waiting to be served. The Woman walked behind him and trailed her hand across his back as she made her way to her own seat. He felt the hairs on his neck stiffen further.  
  
Bulma looked at her husband and gave him a demure smile. Her low-cut tank top and short shorts left only the good parts to his imagination. She leaned toward him across the table, thereby leaving nothing to his imagination.  
  
"Vegeta, do you prefer breasts or thighs," asked his lovely wife.  
  
Bulma only heard the patter of little feet, a door slam, and an engine powering up. She ran to the window and watched in horror as one of her space capsules blasted into the stratosphere.  
  
"Darn you, Vegeta!" she cried. She shook a fist at the disappearing orb. "If you didn't want chicken for dinner, you could have just said 'neither'!"  
  
%%%%%  
  
Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Too bad Bulma did pick up smoking, and Vegeta grew a mustache and cut his hair. Second haircut wasn't bad, though.  
  
I don't subscribe to the "bonding" and "biting" that's so popular with B/V's. But I did paint myself into a corner when I set out to parody them (many chapters ago), which, as you can see, wasn't successful. The trap was just too big.  
  
I do, however, believe in the bonds of marriage and the resultant close connection that develops within the loving relationship of husband and wife. Ever notice how your parents can seem to read each other's minds? That's what I'm trying to convey here. Just call me old-fashioned. 


	19. Denial Ain't a River in Egypt

The Saiyan was training in 400 times Earth's gravity when a heavy collision sent him and his ship tumbling head over heels across the planetoid. Vegeta crawled over to the console and shut off the gravity. Exiting the pod, he discovered himself in the midst of a meteor storm. After training in such high gravity, the usually simple task of blowing up space rocks became a formidable one. Having destroyed most of the larger meteors, Vegeta collapsed onto the planetoid's surface. It's thin atmosphere provided him with little relief. Meteorites, unable to disintegrate through such thin air, continued to pelt his body.  
  
A shadow loomed over the Saiyan. Opening his eyes, he realized with horror that the mother of all rocks and moons was on a direct course toward him. His weakened ki-blasts proved ineffective against the oncoming asteroid. A small chunk of rock broke off and beaned him on the forehead. Vegeta cursed as his strength continued to ebb. He was too tired to fight it. He did not care anymore. He did not care that a third-class Saiyan surpassed him in power. He did not care that he never became the legendary Super Saiyan. He did not care that his life was about to end. He let his mind and body relax and accepted the inevitable.  
  
#####  
  
Elsewhere  
  
Nappa stared up at the giant red ogre. As large as he was, the warrior only stood as tall as King Yemma's thumb.  
  
Yemma addressed the Saiyan elite standing on his desk. "Nappa, the parole council has decided to grant you a furlough."  
  
The warrior folded his arms and regarded the dead's bookkeeper. "I never asked to leave HFIL." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you planning?"  
  
"I just have one small task for you. Complete it and you will be duly rewarded," announced Yemma. "How does an extra bowl of rice with each meal sound?"  
  
An extra bowl of rice! Nappa suppressed his elation. If he played this right, then he may be able to bargain for more. "I'm listening."  
  
"The Earth is in danger," explained Yemma. "And you have a chance to help save it."  
  
"Psh. That useless planet could disappear for all I care. I'm dead because of the cretins on that rock."  
  
Yemma sighed. The kais may be altruistic, but he had a selfish reason for saving the Earth. If the inhabitants died en masse, then he would be one overworked bookkeeper. The afterlife had no concept of paying overtime, much less paying him time and a half for his hard work. Yemma considered how to persuade the Sayian. "Your prince requires your help."  
  
"Prince? Vegeta? You mean the little runt who killed me? Why would I want to help him? He could rot in HFIL for all I care."  
  
Yemma saw the opening and pounced. "Exactly," boomed the big red ogre. "Vegeta would most likely end up in HFIL with you. Now what do you think would happen if I told him that you had a chance to save his life but refused? Hmm?"  
  
Nappa's arms dropped to his sides. The veins on his forehead pulsed. "You wouldn't."  
  
Yemma nodded.  
  
Even in death, Vegeta could easily kick his tail. And what would happen if the prince tried to send the dead Nappa to yet another dimension? The brute's imagination shut down at such horror.  
  
"Fine," conceded the Saiyan. "But I deserve at least fifty extra bowls of rice and dessert for this. And pants. I want pants. What do I have to do?"  
  
Yemma filled Nappa in on his mission.  
  
####  
  
"Prince Vegeta! Hey, Prince, wake up!" Nappa nudged the limp body with his toe.  
  
Vegeta blinked several times in disbelief. If he could feel his arms, he would rub his eyes.  
  
"Nappa, are you alive, or have I died and this is my hell?" He had difficulty focusing because of the jostling. "Quit kicking me, you fool!"  
  
"Oh, ahem. Sorry, My Prince." Nappa desisted with the nudging. "It does not matter where you are, Prince Vegeta. What matters is that you must return to Earth."  
  
"Earth," repeated the exhausted Saiyan prince. He remained unmoving on the ground.  
  
"Your highness, the supreme beings informed me that you have yet a role to play in saving that planet."  
  
"I owe that worthless planet nothing," Vegeta declared.  
  
"But sir," persisted the larger Saiyan, "Don't you want to return and battle the androids?"  
  
"Let Kakarott defeat them. At least he is a Saiyan," countered Vegeta.  
  
Nappa spat in disgust. How could his prince, the prince of the greatest warrior race in the universe, give up so easily? After all, Vegeta had killed him because he failed to defeat Kakarrot. Nappa decided on another tactic. Two bowls of rice, an extra fruit tree, and a pair of pants rode on this. Yemma was one cheap negotiator.  
  
"If you do not do it for the planet, then do it for your woman."  
  
Vegeta snorted. "My Woman? Do not be absurd. I do not have a woman."  
  
"My Prince, even the kais can see that you greatly care for this female. If you did not, then why did you complete the bonding ritual?"  
  
"That was a mistake! The Woman caught me unawares on those occasions," protested his highness.  
  
"Those occasions?" inquired the large Saiyan. "You must really love her if you allowed it to happen more than once."  
  
Vegeta grimaced. No matter what excuse he gave, he would seem like an idiot. "She made a mockery of the Saiyan ritual, so it does not count."  
  
"Your highness, they speak of her incredible strength here in the afterlife. The demons say that she had bested you on more than one occasion. Surely you do not want to give up on such a..." Nappa searched for the correct term. Yemma had used 'loud, obnoxious, persistent,' among others in describing Bulma Briefs. The large Saiyan finished with "...unique woman."  
  
"She never defeated me. That is pure speculation!" cried Vegeta. "I was weak from training and lack of food."  
  
"Or did you fear hurting your lover?" Nappa was pushing it. "This Bulma must be quite a female if you dared not harm her. Or perhaps, you accept her dominance." The bald one snapped his teeth together and chuckled, indicating that he knew the nature of their "ritual."  
  
"Nappa, if this were not an absurd delusion, then I would get up and kick your fat ass."  
  
The large Saiyan looked down at his rear and frowned indignantly. He was in perfect shape, keeping fit through daily spars with the HFIL demons and Radditz. Truth be told, Nappa enjoyed his time in HFIL and found his penchant for violence waning without the influence of Frieza.  
  
"Continue deceiving yourself, My Prince. But remember, if the androids succeed in destroying the Earth, then your wife's doom would be sealed. Can you live with that knowledge?"  
  
"Shut up, Nappa. I lived with your death." Vegeta turned his royal back toward the other Saiyan.  
  
Nappa's patience snapped. "Why you little brat!" He pulled his left leg far back and released it with the momentum of the launch coils on an aircraft carrier. Oh, this would be sweeter than all the apples in HFIL. It was payback for being blasted to the next dimension. That had hurt! With his foot only a hair's breath away from contacting the prince's backside, POIT, the giant bald Saiyan disappeared.  
  
"Damn you Yemmaaaaa...!!!!" echoed in Vegeta's ears as he bolted upright. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He had been out for mere seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Amazing how quickly neurons and synapses fire during phases of unconsciousness and sleep. The shadow of the asteroid continued to spread wider around him.  
  
Vegeta's hands clenched and unclenched. Death laughed at him and beckoned a finger. Anger and humiliation coursed through his body. He had almost given up on his destiny. And he had a wife, damn it! He had a gorgeous wife which fate had decreed for him to marry twice. Only one thing strangled Vegeta's pride more than being surpassed by a lowly country bumpkin -- and it was to realize his own stupidity. Here he was, stuck on a desolate rock with another giant one ready to flatten him like an aphid -- absolutely no glory and no Woman. The asteroid broke through the atmosphere and careened toward the Saiyan. Electric currents crackled through the air. A tortured scream rang through the vastness of space.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%% 


	20. About Time!

%%%%%  
  
The asteroid shattered into smithereens. The blond warrior cackled ominously. He had business to finish.  
  
####  
  
The loud crash and resultant aftershocks sent Bulma tumbling from the couch. The television screen became static. "Darn it! Only five minutes left in the show and this had to happen!" Straightening her orange striped dress, she stomped outside to see the cause of the interruption.  
  
Imbedded in the middle of her yard was the missing space pod. The door opened and a ramp slowly slid toward the ground. Before the ramp finished its descent, one impatient alien prince flew out of the opening and landed before the irate woman.  
  
"Vegeta. I should have known. Only you have that sort of timing. I've been watching that show for weeks and you had to choose now to come home and make me miss the ending. And where have you been? You know that I was worried about you. And aren't you hot wearing that high-collared, long- sleeved outfit of yours. Where are your shorts? Oh, I forgot, space is cold. And --"  
  
Ah, her voice was rose petals caressing his eardrums. Without a word, he grabbed her about the waist and tossed her over his shoulders.  
  
"Yah! What are you doing to me?" Bulma pounded his back and tried to claw and pinch it. Unfortunately, the skin-tight outfit left no slack for grabbing.  
  
He spanked her bottom. "Be quiet. You will soon learn your place, Woman." The Saiyan jogged into the house.  
  
Bulma lifted her head and saw the direction in which he was bound. She smiled widely. "Are you taking me to the boudoir to make me a woman?"  
  
"You are already a woman. I am just making you mine."  
  
She giggled gleefully and clapped her hands in joy. It was about time!  
  
  
  
######  
  
Five minutes later:  
  
He sat at the foot of the bed, steepling his fingers and tapping the two index together. She was at the head and hummed softly to herself. The clock ticked loudly.  
  
"So," she began.  
  
"So," he added.  
  
"How was space?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
* Silence. *  
  
"Did you become a Super Saiyan?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's nice."  
  
* Silence. *  
  
"How did it happen? I mean the Super Saiyan."  
  
Vegeta blushed. "I became angry."  
  
"Oh."  
  
* More silence. *  
  
They resumed tapping and humming, humming and tapping, tapping and...  
  
"Do something already!" she screamed. "You're the man, you should make the first move."  
  
The Saiyan nearly fell off the bed from the force of her voice.  
  
"Fine. If that is what you want." He threw her down and pressed his body on top of hers.  
  
"About time. I've been waiting and wondering with you being so slow and mmph--"  
  
He silenced her with a kiss. Bulma gave in willingly. The kisses deepened. The passion burned stronger. They kicked off their shoes and he removed his chestplate. She clawed at his clothes. He fumbled for her buttons, only to discover that there were no buttons. The old woman's novels had been misleading.  
  
He gasped and whimpered as Bulma grabbed the waist of his outfit to lift the top over his head. He whimpered again when she became more aggressive and pulled and twisted the garment upwards. The feeling became too intense, and he trapped her hands in his to halt the action.  
  
"Did you not realize that this is a one-piece?!" His voice cracked slightly.  
  
Bulma grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."  
  
Vegeta stood on the floor and readjusted himself, hoping that nothing was bruised. Pulling the collar out until it stretched over both shoulders, he proceeded to remove his arms from the sleeves one at a time.  
  
Witnessing the unsexy disrobing, Bulma inwardly cringed and made a note to re-invent his Saiyan outfit into a two-piece. Only women should wear unitards.  
  
Vegeta returned to bed, his bottom half still clothed. He wanted to give the Woman a bit of mystery, modesty having more than a little influence in his decision.  
  
They commenced with the kissing. His hands trailed down her sides and caressed her thighs. She moaned encouragement. Pressing his hands against the hem of her knit dress, he slowly slid the garment upwards. They rose together, and Bulma lifted her arms above her head. She arched her back.  
  
"Vegeta!" she cried. "Vegeta!" she cried again. "Stop! It's too tight!"  
  
But the Saiyan was too deeply involved. He could not stop now and concentrated his efforts. She had wanted this, and he was going to finish it. His hands balled into fists with the exertion. He raised his arms to their full extent and his clenched hands moved vigorously from side to side. His Woman craned her neck and cried out again. But his arms were short, and the dress remained caught underneath her chin.  
  
"Vegeta! Stop it!" Bulma pushed her husband away. The dress hung limply on her head like a shroud from a reject fashion show. Her hands, still caught in the sleeves, massaged her covered temples. "Now, kneel and gently pull the dress off," she instructed.  
  
The stubborn garment easily slipped free. He would have to remember this technique the next time.  
  
She scowled at him in disbelief. Vegeta's face remained blank. As Bulma lifted her hands to smooth her hair, Vegeta captured them in his and gently kissed each palm. She sighed and melted.  
  
Interpreting her actions as favorable, the prince became bolder and moved to kiss her lips. The old woman's novels proved to have some useful tips after all.  
  
He rose on his knees and hooked his fingers underneath the elastic.  
  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Her tone begged caution on his part.  
  
"I am removing the rest of your clothes." The books had warned him of the female's insecurities with her first time. "Do not worry, I will be gentle," he quoted, choking down the bile. The language filth in those novels sometimes amazed him.  
  
"Vegeta," Bulma slowed her breathing. "You do not pull this over my head! This bra has underwires! And hooks in the back! See!" She twisted and pointed at the closures so that even the Amish could see.  
  
"Stop with the yelling!" The Saiyan pressed his fingers to his temples and wondered if sex would always be this verbose and loud.  
  
"I am not yelling! But I'll tell you what: I don't think that I'm in the mood anymore!"  
  
"Fine!"  
  
"Fine!"  
  
* Silence. *  
  
"So, do you want to try again?"  
  
"Sure, why not," he answered.  
  
  
  
#####  
  
A reasonable time later:  
  
Bulma rolled atop her husband and kissed his cheek. "So, you do know my name." She pecked his nose. "I love the way you pronounce it." She kissed his lips.  
  
Vegeta snorted. "But you, BUL-ma, have yet to learn mine. It is Bejita, not Vegeta."  
  
"Really, now? You've never corrected me before." She traced lazy circles on his chest with her finger.  
  
"Maybe I should teach you to get it right."  
  
"Maybe you should."  
  
  
  
#####  
  
A few name changes, spellings, and even misspellings later:  
  
Vegeta propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at his sleeping Woman. He gently brushed aside a strand of hair. Putting on a t-shirt and draw- string pants, the Saiyan left the room. This was an occasion that required a case of the bubbly. Hopefully, the root beers were cold because he had worked up quite a thirst.  
  
A large manila envelope addressed to a Mr. Vegeta and Ms. Bulma Briefs caught his eye. Vegeta picked up the opened envelope from the kitchen table and removed the papers. It was the annulment form. He scanned the contents and reached the last page. His wife's signature was noticeably absent. He frowned. Obviously, "obey" was not in her vocabulary.  
  
The papers burned quickly and the ashes floated through his fingers.  
  
"YEEHAW!" She tackled him from behind and almost knocked him off of his feet. "I don't like you either, Vegeta!" Bulma gave him a hard squeeze and a huge smooch on the cheek.  
  
The Saiyan prince returned the affection and smiled over his wife's shoulders. She was right. He really did not like her. He loved her.  
  
  
  
THE END.  
  
  
  
%%%%%%  
  
Taa daa!  
  
Tying up loose ends:  
  
Bulma sent Vegeta back to space because he spent too much time perfecting his skills with her instead of training for the androids. Also proud and boastful, she wanted her husband to be the most powerful Super Saiyan. While he was with his wife, Vegeta never turned Super Saiyan, so the others did not know about his transformation.  
  
They kept it "V-E-G-E-T-A" because that was on the Moonie marriage certificate.  
  
Yamcha returned to the desert to train when Vegeta left for space the first time; therefore, he had no idea when Bulma became pregnant. His displeasure at the reunion stemmed from the fact (my imagination, anyway) that Bulma, one of his closest friends, never told him about her pregnancy; he did almost wish that he had a son; and yet, how could Gohan mistake such an angry looking, cross-eyed child to be his?  
  
Nappa did get his rice, tree, and pair of pants because technically, he did accomplish the mission. He and Radditz pestered Yemma for more assignments, but sadly, the ogre had none to give them.  
  
*******  
  
Thanks to all who stuck with the story! Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed! 


End file.
